


Fixing Everyone's Troubles But Mine: A Love Story [Fic & Podfic]

by blue_pointer, RsCreighton, SomethingIncorporeal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ASL, Action Sequence, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bartender Bucky, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bisexual Tony, Bucky Barnes Cooks, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 1, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 2, Central Park, Cherry - Freeform, Clint is a bad influence, Clint wins at failure, Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fraction's Hawkeye, Harley Romanov, Hospitals, Iron Man reveal, Iron Man suit as life support, Iron Soldier, Iron Winter, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mary Poppins Reference, Matchmaker Clint, Nat is a good actress, Nat is your pimp, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 3-3.5 Hours, Prospect Park, Romantic Comedy, Russian Natasha Romanov, Russian spoken here, Serious Injuries, Sign Language, Stereotypes, Steve left Tony for Sharon yawl, Stony breakup, Stubborn Bucky Barnes, Surprise Blowjob, Texting, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony and kids, Tony dad vibes, Voyeurism, Waiting Rooms, Zoo, alternate iron man universe, ass pictures, crack dreams, dad bucky, even though you're a man, flying kites, hawkiron, hitting on people at the zoo, iron hawk - Freeform, loving someone so much you want to have their babies, much better than dick pics, past Bucky Barnes/Kate Bishop, pod_together, sex worker Nat, soulmate bros, the subtle art of tricking you into touching my penis, tracksuit mafia - Freeform, trade Bucky, whoops, winteriron, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal
Summary: When Tony falls in lust with a straight bartender from Brooklyn, can Clint make magic happen? A little bribery, stalking, and seduction later, the answer may be...no.But this isn't your run-of-the-mill RomCom. Hawkeye and his sidekick Bucky have a neighborhood to defend from the tracksuit mafia. When a heist goes terribly wrong, can Iron Man save the day?





	1. 9 versus 12: You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> M4B & Zipped copy of all MP3s available at the beginning of the last chapter! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to drink his sorrows away at a bar in Bed-Stuy, Tony meets two hotties. One of them is straight, but that never stopped him before!
> 
> Who will he choose? Both, natch! 
> 
> Wait, they have a bro code? Who authorized this?

  
**Title:**   Chapter One: 9 versus 12: You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter  
**Length:**  1:16:17  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming  
**Cover Artist:**   [ brideofquiet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet) (Text added by RsCreighton)

  
[**Mobile Streaming**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2001%20FETBM.mp3)  


[**Download File**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2001%20FETBM.mp3)  
_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA!_

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_

Sitting slumped over a bar after just having been dumped was such a ridiculous cliche. Tony was disappointed in himself. Not as disappointed in himself as he was for having failed at relationships. Again. But still. Couldn’t he have gone windsurfing in the Bahamas? Bought bottle service with friends? Gone to Vegas and gambled a fortune away? 

Apparently not.

“Hit me again, sailor,” he told the bartender, holding out his tumbler, empty of everything but ice for the seventh time.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the guy asked, his soft voice oh-so-superior.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” Tony growled, banging his glass on the bar.

“You know, catch more flies with honey,” a guy down the bar said.

Tony turned to glare at him with bloodshot eyes. “You catch the most flies with shit. What’s your point?”

“Look, I get it, your life sucks right now.” The sandy-haired man raised his own glass to Tony in acknowledgement. “But that’s no reason to take it out on the bartender.”

“Who asked you?” Tony grumped, turning away again. “I tip him well, he’s got no complaints.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your tips,” the bartender cut in. “Which you haven’t given any of so far, by the way. But even if you had, you’re at your limit. I’m cuttin’ you off.”

“How the hell do you know what my limit is?” Tony huffed. ‘You’re not my dad’ was right on the tip of his tongue, and then he thought,  _ Thank god, _ because truly. No one wants to misery-drink with the guy who locked you in a closet at 7 for failing a calculus test.

Someone slid into the stool next to him. “Not sure if you’ve noticed.” It was the guy from the other end of the bar. “But he deals with drunks for a living. If anyone would know, he would.”

Tony was starting to get annoyed. “You guys married or somethin’? You sure do take up for him a lot.”

“In a way,” the man said, grinning. “I’m here most days by 10 and shut the place down.”

“Congratulations on your career alcoholism, Norm. I don’t care.”

“You did ask,” the guy said.

“That was my subtle hint for you to shut the fuck up.”

“I like you,” the man said slowly, going back to his beer. “You’re salty.”

“Dip me in chocolate. I’m delicious.” Where was his scotch? He needed more.

“Now that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” the man grinned, giving Tony the once-over.

“It wasn’t an offer,” Tony grumped, glaring at the slowly-melting ice in the glass. “It was sarcasm.”

“Funny, sounded like an offer to me. What do you say, Buck?” he glanced up at the bartender, cleaning pouring spouts several steps away.

“I’m stayin’ out of it,” he replied. “You dip whoever you want, Clint.”

“My cousin.” Clint squinted one eye at Tony and pointed at the bartender. “In case you were wondering.”

“That’s great.” Tony felt like he was being stabbed in the heart again. “Must be nice to have a cousin who pours booze instead of ruining your life.”

“I’m sensing a story,” Clint said. He gestured at his cousin, who refilled Tony’s glass in spite of having said he was cut off.

Tony blinked at the caramel-colored liquid suddenly returned to his glass. “You’ve got connections.” He looked up at him. “Maybe you can dip me in chocolate after all. Just promise to keep the liquor flowing.”

Clint leaned against the bar, smiling. “I can’t promise that.”

“Well. To cousins.” He raised his glass.

“Cousins.” Clint clinked his beer glass against Tony’s tumbler.

“Tell the truth, Clint,” Buck said from his hiding place by the sink.

“Okay, we’re not cousins by blood,” Clint admitted.

That sounded too familiar to Tony.

“We’re cousins by romantic entanglement. He used to date my niece.”

“Wouldn’t that make him your nephew-in-law?” It was easier to focus on someone else’s imaginary family. Kept his mind from obsessing over his own disaster.

“No.” Clint gestured with his beer. “They broke up.” He glanced over at the bartender. “How long’s it been?”

“I’m a guy, you think I keep track?”

“He keeps track,” Clint leaned over to tell Tony confidentially. “She was his one.”

“Sucks to be him,” Tony grunted, knowing painfully exactly what it felt like to lose your one. Because it had just happened to him.

  


*

  


Clint looked at the man more closely. A breakup. It had to be a breakup. No one drank like that over a bankruptcy or even death of a loved one. “Sucks to be all of us, if you ask me.” 

“It definitely sucks to be you,” Bucky shot back over his shoulder.

“I’d tell you what I really think of you, but your back’s to me,” he said. Bucky grinned, but he didn’t turn around.

“What’s his back got to do with it?”

Clint watched the cranky stranger notice Bucky--really notice him--for the first time: the baggy jeans hanging low over his hips, muscular rump wiggling just a smidge as he wiped down bottles, the old white Hanes t-shirt nearly transparent from wear stretched taut over his beefy chest. Clint hid a smile. “Everything."

“Hm.” Mr. Mad was still looking. Too bad for him Bucky didn’t swing that way.

“Come on, asshole. Show him.”

Bucky sighed, carefully replacing a bottle of vodka before turning around.  _ You like this one? _ he signed.

_ Cute, but rebounds? No thanks. _

_ Chatty for a guy who’s not interested,  _ Bucky accused.

_ Maybe just needs a friend, _ he signed back.

_ Heart of gold, head of wood. _

Clint grinned.  _ Same to you. _  


_  
_

_ * _

_  
_

Tony wondered if he should tell them he understood ASL. No, it was better to eavesdrop on their conversation. It’s not like he was seriously thinking of taking the blond up on his interest, but knowing he was interested was flattering enough to be distracting. Tony took a moment to run fingers through his hair, smooth his rumpled three-day-old clothes. 

_  
_

*

_  
_

_ Fuck off, I have to work.  _

Clint happily flipped him the bird. Turned back to their silent companion. “That’s what it has to do with his back being to me.” He smirked. “Though it seemed like you didn’t mind the view.”

The man shrugged. “Best-looking guy in a bar’s supposed to be the bartender. That’s just business sense.”

“Sure,” Clint repeated. “Business sense. Hey, Buck, is it too late for food?”

He gave Clint an annoyed look. “You know the schedule as well as I do.”

“What if I promise to clean up?”

Bucky sighed. “Fine. Are you gonna cook it, too?”

Clint leaned on the bar, resting his chin on his fist. “You’re so much better than me at cooking.”

“Goddammit,” Bucky sighed, but Clint could tell he wasn’t really pissed. He was a feeder. Couldn’t say no when people were hungry.

“You have to try his buffalo wings,” Clint told his slightly willing companion.

“I most certainly do not.”

“His beer-battered onion rings are a masterpiece.”

“I can get greasy food anywhere.”

“But you can only get the best cheeseburger in Brooklyn right here.” He had the guy’s interest finally. What red-blooded man didn’t love a cheeseburger?

“You’re making that up,” he said, pulling out a crazy high-tech cell phone to corroborate Clint’s claim.

“Hey, I didn’t say the hipsters rated it the highest on yelp, I said it’s the best.”

“A likely story.”

The man tossed his phone aside. Clint saw it had several unheard voicemails and a lot of text notifications. He nodded to Bucky. “You got that, right?”

“One cheeseburger with rings, and an order of buffalo wings coming up.” He disappeared into the back to get the grill going again.

“So, now that we’re alone…” Clint vamped it up. Give the guy his money’s worth. Hell, maybe it would get him to crack a smile.

“Yeah?” The guy gave it right back, turning toward Clint and leaning his elbow on the bar. He had the sexiest lips, and soft brown eyes you could drown in.  _ Rebound, _ he reminded himself.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” He watched the guy immediately start to withdraw. Maybe he should have stuck with the flirting. “Or, you know. I could just tell you how cute you are.”

“Let’s do that.” The guy started to relax again.

“First things first, though. I’m Clint. What’s your name, handsome?”

The guy smirked. Everyone liked compliments. “Tony.” He shook Clint’s hand. His grip was strong, like someone who worked with his hands for a living.

“So, Tony. What brings a handsome Manhattanite like yourself to Bed-Stuy?”

“The burgers, apparently.” He did not want to talk about it. Which made Clint even more curious.

“Okay, I get it. What do you do for work? You have the grip of a longshoreman.”

He had a cute smirk, this one. “I’m...a mechanic,” he said.  _ Interesting pause. _  


_  
_

*

_  
_

Tony took a sip of his drink, wondering if the guy was gonna buy it. 

“Mechanic, huh? You ever work on old cars?”

“Why?” Tony leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Do you collect them?”

“I drive one,” Clint said. “But we tend to just have one car a piece out here in Brooklyn.”

“Whatcha got?” Tony was interested.

“1970 Dodge Challenger.” He looked so proud, too. Definitely the only car he owned. And for this working class stiff, he probably had to drive it, too.

Tony whistled. “That car was a thing of beauty.” He took a sip of his scotch, almost as interested in his company now as he was the alcohol. “You having trouble with it?”

“I’m not sure you’d call it trouble as much as attitude. Maybe you could take a look at her for me sometime.”

“Deal. Where is she?” Tony, ever impatient to get to work, stood, feeling around in his pockets for a tip now that the bartender had so rudely pointed out his failing.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean right now,” Clint said. “You haven’t even tried your burger.” Tony was disappointed. Talking to car engines was vastly preferable to talking to people. Not that this guy didn’t seem perfectly charming.

“No, I guess not.” Tony sat down. “So what’s the deal with your cousin? He’s single?”

“You were looking,” he accused playfully, grinning.

“I have eyes,” Tony shrugged.

Clint rubbed his chin, no doubt thinking of how to answer. “Well, he says he hasn’t been counting how long it’s been since he and Kate broke up, but...he hasn’t had anything but a one-night stand since.

“Good to know,” Tony said, trying to decide if he should take the guy back to his place or invite him back to the city. 

“Full disclosure, though,” Clint interrupted his planning. “He’s straight.”

“Yeah, they all say that at one point,” Tony said, not put off in the least.

“Wow, you deal in trade? I like a guy who isn’t afraid of a little violence in his dating routine.”

Tony’s eyes sparked with interest. “Your cousin the violent type?”

“No,” Clint said. “He’s actually an ally, I’m just saying…”

“He’s a big boy,” Tony said, loosening his tie. “I’m sure he can say no on his own.”

Clint shook his head. “Never the low-hanging fruit, huh?”

“Where’s the challenge in that?” Tony asked, standing and walking back toward the kitchen. Clint turned to watch. This was going to be interesting.

“Hey, sweetcheeks,” Tony said, leaning invitingly against the door frame. “How’s it goin’ back here, you need a hand?”

“You a chef?” Bucky asked, slicing an onion for the rings.

“Not by trade, but I’ve thrown a dinner party or two.”

Bucky glanced up at that, and his blue eyes were haunting. Tony lost his train of thought for a few seconds. “What, your own cooking? Bullshit.”

“Okay, you caught me.” He raised his hands in surrender. Realized he’d forgotten his bourbon on the bar. Maybe he was feeling a little better. Watching Bucky’s muscles moving under that wafer-thin shirt wasn’t hurting his mood, that was for sure. “With a body like that, you’ve gotta have a personal trainer. Give me his name. I’m looking for a new one.”

“Personal trainer?” Bucky grimaced. “Who in the hell can afford that?” He turned to dip the rings in batter, missing Tony’s ironic eyebrow lift. Was that meant to be a dig at folks who could afford it? “I don’t work out,” he said. “Unloading the supply trucks for the bar is enough of a workout for me.”

Tony whistled. “Who knew moving kegs of beer and whiskey does a body good?”

Bucky looked back sharply. “You done hittin’ on me now? Go on. Outta my kitchen. Go keep Clint company.”

“I actually wasn’t done, now you mention it.”

Bucky turned back, grabbed the raw chicken wings from a bag. “No, you’re done. Trust me.” He went to the sink to rinse the chicken. “You got no idea how often I get hit on in a day, pal. Guys, gals, I’m over it.

Tony leaned his back against the door frame, posing provocatively. “Yeah, but $500 says none of those people give head like I do.” Tony was pleased when he momentarily dropped the chicken in the sink. It seemed Clint had been right. Bucky was apparently hard-up enough that just the mention of oral sex was sufficiently distracting.

After a split second, he got himself together, put the chicken back in the bowl, turned back to the fryer. “I don’t got $500 to waste on a bet like that,” he said. Tony could tell by the anxious look on his face that $500 would make a difference in this guy’s lifestyle. So he’d picked the right figure. He had trouble pinpointing how much money was a lot to normal people. He usually overshot. He’d been considering betting the guy $5k but he saw now that would’ve been way too much.

“But you’re curious,” Tony said, stepping into the tiny kitchen and reaching to grab a handful of denim-covered ass.

“I did not say that,” Bucky said, taking Tony’s hand off his ass and firmly handing it back to him. “And I mean it. Get the fuck out of my kitchen before I toss you outta this bar.”

“So we’ll talk later,” Tony said.

“Go. Shoo.” Bucky physically shooed him out of the kitchen, giving Tony a gentle push in the direction of the bar. Clint waved.

“So, I see it went well,” he observed as Tony wandered back over.

“Shut up,” Tony said. “He’s considering my offer.”

“You made him an offer?” Clint clearly wanted to know.

“I’ll fill you in if it works out,” Tony told him, feeling a certain evil glee at not sharing the details.

“So, now you got shot down with the high and unripe fruit, you wanna go for the low-hanging?” Clint asked, putting his hand on Tony’s knee.

  


*  


_  
_

It was a big risk, all things considered. People who went for Bucky usually weren’t ready to get propositioned by Clint until they had their beer goggles on. This guy could clearly knock ‘em back without much effect. And, yes, Clint had said no to rebounds, but that was only where relationships were concerned. One-night stands with damaged goods were just fine by him. And Tony was clearly cruising for company ASAP.

He leaned toward Clint and smiled a professionally whitened smile. “Your balls have reached the pendulous grandfather clock stage already, have they?”

Clint snorted and took his hand back. “Now you’ll never know.”

“Won’t I?” Tony leaned over a bit further and put his hand on Clint’s knee. It made his face feel hot.

“Okay, well. Maybe,” Clint said, clearing his throat. He nodded at Tony’s glass. “You need more booze?”

“Now I’m interested in a different kind of pastime,” Tony smirked. He was one sexy little fucker.

“So,” Clint asked, trying to sound casual. “Where you wanna pass the time?”

Tony’s grin widened. “Right here.”

That sure got Clint’s heart pumping. “What, like on the bar?” He’d never done that while the bar was open...unsanitary, Bucky had told him, cleaning up the next morning.

“Maybe,” Tony said. Wicked, wicked man. “Your cousin the prudish type?”

“Not prudish exactly…” Uptight? No. Willing to throw you into the street for soiling his bartop? Yes.

“He like to watch?” Tony asked, excitement in his eyes.

“Uh…” Clint had to think about that one. “I don’t...think?” Definitely not with guys anyway.

“Too bad,” Tony said, stealing Clint’s beer.

“Hey!” There was still bourbon in his glass. So he swiped it. “Fine, then I get yours.”

“I’ll take yours if you take mine,” Tony murmured, fluttering his eyelashes over the rim of his beer glass.

Clint grinned. “Now that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, they were interrupted by Bucky arriving with a plate of burger and rings. And suddenly Tony wasn’t paying attention to Clint anymore. “Smells amazing.”

“Yeah, this guy could be a professional dutch oven baker,” Clint said. When Tony made a face, he added, “Oh, sorry. The food. Right.” Bucky was already gone, forfeiting his right to become offended.

As usual, Bucky had sliced the burger in half so that the perfect medium rare of the inner burger could be seen by the customer, dripping beefy juices. Tony picked it up and bit into it, making noises like Clint wished he would make for him. “Told you it was good,” he said. 

“Where have you been all my life?” Tony asked the burger, and Clint laughed.

“Inside my cousin’s head, I’m guessing.” He didn’t add that that head was several years younger than Tony. Maybe a couple of decades. That wouldn’t have earned Clint any brownie points. “Try the rings.”

Tony did, eagerly, and from the look of things, he enjoyed them, but the burger was his main focus. “Your cousin interested in being a personal chef?” he asked. And Clint experienced a brief moment of panic. Would Bucky actually leave the bar? What would happen to it? More importantly, what would happen to Clint? Where would he go? Unfortunately, he doubted that hanging out at Tony’s mansion on Park Avenue was an option.

“Not sure,” Clint said, trying to exude calm. “You should ask him.”

“I think I will.” But Tony didn’t wander off to do so, he stayed and finished the burger. Then looked expectantly at Clint. “What, don’t tell me all of that flirting was just the appetizer?”

Clint smirked, leaning toward him again. “It can be the breakfast if you play your cards right.”

Tony laughed. “There is something to be said for low-hanging fruit. Don’t get me wrong, I do like a challenge, but sometimes a guy just wants to get laid.”

Clint knew it wasn’t a compliment. He didn’t care. He gestured at himself. “Who has two thumbs and is the easiest person in this bar? This guy!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Tony painted the ketchup around his empty plate, seemingly at random.

“Birds of a feather,” Clint smiled.

“Mmmhm.” Tony had just thrown his leg over Clint’s when Bucky returned--what timing!--with the wings. “I’m not a big fan of wings,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose.

“You’re gonna love ‘em,” Clint said. “Guaranteed.”

“What do I get if I don’t?” Tony asked, flirtatious as ever.

“My ass,” Clint said. “And a bag of bar peanuts as a consolation prize.”

“Hey, hey!” Bucky cut in. “Don’t bet stuff I can’t afford to lose!”

“Come on!” Clint waved him off. “Have more confidence in yourself.”

Bucky shook his head, returning to his obsessive cleaning of the bar and all its contents--some days Clint expected to be picked up and rag-washed. “I know the wings are good, but some people just don’t like wings,” he pointed out.

“Who doesn’t like chicken?” Clint asked. “Defective, that’s what I say.”

“Or just a fan of red meat,” Tony said, with every intention at innuendo, both figuratively and literally.

“You guys are gross,” Bucky declared, heading back to the kitchen.  


_  
_

*

_  
_

Tony saw his chance. Winking at Clint, he slipped back to the kitchen--or what passed for one here. “Just thought you should know, your cousin was right. You make an amazing burger.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, starting to scrub the grill, even though he’d told Clint he’d have to do it. “Hey, aren’t you hooking up with Clint tonight? Shouldn’t you be out there?”

“Maybe,” Tony said, feeling contrary. “But right now I’m back here with you.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Bucky said, not looking back at him.

“So, you think any more about that 500 bucks?”

Bucky stopped. Straightened up. “Why does it sound like you’re propositioning me?”

“Hey, sweetcheeks, that’s all in your head. This is just a friendly wager.”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“Wager, huh?” No, it was definitely a proposition. Because Bucky had said he didn’t have $500 to burn. But he had to make child support this month. He couldn’t let Nat or Harley down again. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, so lay down the rules.” 

_  
_

*

_  
_

Tony smiled. He had him. “Okay. Rules are, I put this…” He fished his money clip out of his back pocket. “On the sink. I blow your mind. If you find at the end of that your mind is insufficiently blown, you get to keep the money. If it is, I get to keep my money. Deal?” 

Bucky glanced around, as if looking for some invisible audience to judge him. Poor lamb. Nervous trade was a particular weakness of his. Then he stopped. Seemed to gain courage. Reconsidered. “What about Clint?” It looked like it was a no-go from the expression on his face.

“What about Clint?” Tony asked.

“He’s not gonna wanna take you home after you blow me.”

Tony smirked, all confidence. “You sure about that?”

“I am.” Bucky nodded, solemn. “We’re family.”

Tony’s smile began to fade. “Well I wish my damn family had cared that much.”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

Unlike Clint, Bucky knew not to ask. He had the bartender-therapist thing down. And as was their proud tradition, he turned away and continued to clean. “Must be rough having people that’re supposed to care about you treat you like your feelings don’t matter,” he said, casually. 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Glad I don’t,” Bucky said, continuing to work. “You know, I was lucky to have been friends with Clint when...everything went down with Kate.”

“What happened, anyway?” He seemed to be slipping out of seduction mode, which was fine with Bucky.

He sighed. “You ever wake up one morning and just. Realize you don’t love someone anymore?”

“No!” His response was vehement. Horrified. “God!”

He sighed again. “Well, I guess that’s what happened with her.” Why did it still hurt so much? Bucky would have loved to let it go. But it just seemed he couldn’t yet. Maybe he never would.

“Jesus.” Tony walked back into the kitchen, which was the opposite of what Bucky had wanted him to do. “I’m...sorry.” It was nice to see him awkward for once, though.

“It’s fine,” Bucky told him gently, seeing he’d upset him with the story. But it wasn’t fine. He wasn’t sure it ever would be.

“How’d she tell you?” Tony asked.

“Oh, Kate’s pretty straightforward.” Maybe the grill didn’t need to be scrubbed that hard, but he suddenly needed to scrub it that hard. “She basically rolled over in the bed and was like, ‘I don’t want to be together anymore.’ Just like that.”

“Christ! And people think I’m blunt.”

“Do they?” Bucky turned to smirk at him over his shoulder. “So how do you break up with people?”

“I don’t,” Tony said, leaning back against the door, folding his arms.

Bucky didn’t believe that for a second, and the look he gave Tony said so.

“What I mean is…” Oh, here it came. “I don’t--I didn’t have relationships...not really. That is, before…”

Bucky knew he wasn’t going to talk about it yet, so he probed in a different direction. “Come on,” he said. “Not even a little bit? Not ever?”

“Well.” Tony bit his lip. “I did have this really weird undefined thing with my personal assistant.”

“Woooow.” The grill was clean, but now Bucky had the rest of the cleanup to do. He moved over to the sink. “That must be a rich guy thing, huh? Bang the secretary, because she’s right there anyway, right? Convenient.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Tony said, but his tone was more flirtatious than offended. “I’ll have you know I never slept with her...while she was my assistant.”

Bucky snorted. “So you fired her to sleep with her? That poor woman.”

“Rude.” Now Tony was annoyed. “I promoted her. Because she deserved it. And after that, it wasn’t against company policy for us to date anymore, so…”

“Jeez, what’d you promote her to? CEO?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

Bucky was so surprised, he turned around to look at him. “Jeez. Coming onto the boss has major perks in your company. How do I get in on that action?”

That made Tony smirk. Probably because the guy’s brain seemed to live in the gutter. Bucky could relate, but. Only in spirit. But then his mood changed. “Look, I’m serious. That offer to be my personal chef was real. It’d save me coming to Brooklyn whenever I need my burger fix.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with Brooklyn?” Bucky asked, offended on behalf of the borough. “Coming to Brooklyn does a body good.”

“Hey, my mom was from here. Calm down, sweet stuff. It’s just I don’t like to stop working if I don’t have to.” He smirked, then, thinking he had a bead on Bucky. “In fact, I forget to eat more than not. So having someone there to remind me would be--"

But Bucky stopped him right there. “Look, as much fun as it would be to play your babysitter, I can’t leave the bar. People here need me.” 

Then Tony asked the only question that mattered. “How much they payin’ you?”

Ah, the eternal question. Bucky shined the penny as much as he could before showing it off. “Weekend nights I can make as much as $100 in tips.”

But Tony was too smart for that. “So in a good week, you make what? $500?” That did seem to be the magical number tonight.

But Bucky didn’t want to admit it. He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“I’ll pay you that per hour. And reimburse transportation costs.”

Bucky blinked at him in shock. $500 per hour was prostitute rate, not chef rate. ...was it? “I--” He honestly didn’t know what to say. It felt insane negotiating something like this with a stranger he’d only just met. He could be a serial killer for all Bucky knew.

Then, suddenly, he knew what he needed. “Uncle Clint!” he called out to the main room, dripping dish water across the floor.

He’d barely made it back to the sink before Clint was in the doorway right behind Tony. He slung his arm around Tony’s shoulders. “So what’s cookin’ pals? Need some me intervention? Ah, I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.” Clint winked at Tony, but Bucky knew he was ready to shank, clobber, or eject the guy on a word from him. He was the unofficial bouncer of the bar, and very protective of Bucky. Totally unnecessarily so.

“I need to borrow your business acumen a second,” Bucky told him. They both knew what he really meant was carnie sense. Clint could spot a liar at 50 paces.

  


*

_  
_

“Oh, you’re his business manager, huh?” Tony turned, not displeased to find Clint so close to his face all of a sudden.

“Business manager, pimp, accountant. Whatever you need.” That rakish grin was addictive.

“I just need someone in my house who can cook those burgers for me on demand,” Tony said.

“So you’re looking for a husband,” Clint said, without missing a beat.

Tony tried to hide a smirk. “Well, ideally I’d like someone to fuck me to sleep every night AND also remind me to eat when I’m wrapped up in my work. So...a husband would work? Not saying no to a wife, either, for the record.”

Clint pretended to think. “Well, I know some Russian prostitutes who are looking for work…”

“Pass.”

“As a matter of fact, you like redheads?”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“Clint.” That was Bucky’s warning voice. For some reason, he had very little sense of humor when it came to his ex. 

“Oh, come on. She love him long time.”

“Clint!” Bucky didn’t turn around, but he didn’t have to. You could see Bucky bristling from all the way over here.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Different ex?” he guessed.

“Baby momma,” Clint said.

Tony’s eyebrows lifted. He was either surprised by Bucky’s having knocked up a prostitute or being a father. Maybe both.

“Jesus, Clint,” Bucky growled. “Tell him my whole life story, why don’tcha?”

“Come on, buddy, this is gonna take an hour or two.” Clint started to steer Tony out of the kitchen. “It was a cold night in March. The fog hung heavy over the Brooklyn bridge…”

“You’re an asshole!” Bucky shouted after them.

“Takes one to know one!” Clint shot back. But when they got to the bar, Clint just poured them another. He wasn’t really going to tell the story of the night Bucky was born, Hallmark Channel style.

“Sounds like he really trusts you,” Tony said, taking a seat.

“Yeah, I have this thing for strays,” Clint admitted. “Fellow feeling or summat.”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“So what’s your story?” Tony asked, sitting back. Tonight was allll about other people’s problems. He wanted nothing to do with his own. 

Clint seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Parents died in a car wreck when I was four.”

That shocked Tony to his core, but he tried not to show it. Is that why they’d connected so easily? Shared trauma? But how was that possible when neither of them had known?

Clint went on, staring into his beer. “Barney and me--that’s my brother--got shifted from foster home to foster home.” He shrugged. “We weren’t the best kids. Barney dealt with his grief through shoplifting and fighting at school, and I--well, my hearing wasn’t so great.”

Tony took a moment to examine the nearly invisible hearing aids Clint was wearing. They weren’t cheap by any stretch, but Tony thought he could do better. He added it to his mental list of things to invent.    


_  
_

*

_  
_

“And there was no free healthcare for kids back then. What money the state would give, a lot of foster parents would pocket. It was a bad racket.” He took a long pull on his beer. “Then there was the really stellar stepdad we got. The one who hit me in the head until I couldn’t hear hardly anything anymore. There was no cochlear implant back then, but we did go to a therapist who taught me and Barney how to sign. Not sure why it didn’t put up a red flag when our “dad” didn’t feel like learning. But it’s hard enough to find homes for two brothers, much less bad ones. And no one seemed to care.” Clint stopped for a minute, lost in the memory. How many times he’d thought about fostering himself, knowing how hard it was on those kids? But he wasn’t a dad. He barely felt human, most days.

“That’s rough,” Tony said, looking sympathetic. Concerned.  


_  
_

*

__

_  
_

But he wasn’t about to open up, even if he did automatically like this guy. “Hey, do you know any good charities for foster kids?” he asked. Things like this just weren’t on his radar. And they should be, Tony thought. His mother would absolutely have given money to stuff like this. 

“Sure, ask the guy with no money.” Clint laughed. But Tony could see from the color in his cheeks that he liked the idea of finding a donor to his cause. He shook his head. “Honest, I was too small to remember what charities actually gave us anything. Barney and I ran away long before I noticed stuff like that.”

“Ran away?” Tony had tried to run away from home once. He’d gotten all the way to Barcelona before Jarvis had found him. And what might his own bleak childhood have been like without a Jarvis to take care of him?

“Yeah,” Clint’s smile widened. “To join the circus.”

Tony was about to tell him he was full of shit when Bucky returned. “Alright guys, that’s it. Last call. Clint, you wanna use upstairs for your fun, let me know now. I gotta plan where I’m gonna pass out tonight.”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

He looked at Clint pointedly. Sometimes Clint was surprised he got laid at all with his old maid cousin always getting up in his business. “Well gosh, Bucky,” he said. “That’s just so romantic. I’m not sure Tony can stand it.” He turned to Tony. “Can you stand it?” 

“I probably can’t,” Tony said. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “My cousin has generously offered us his apartment upstairs if you just want a quick hookup.” He leaned against the bar. “Buuut if you want something a little more...date-like, we can go back to my place. Or hit a 24 hour diner, or…”

“We could go back to my place,” Tony suggested. Clint watched him look longingly up at Bucky. “All three of us.”

“No dice, pops,” Bucky said, tossing Tony a wad of money. Clint’s eyes bulged, seeing nothing in there smaller than a Franklin.  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“Pops?!” Tony repeated, outraged. But before he could work himself up to a significant fit, Bucky continued. 

“I got Harley tomorrow, so I need my sleep. Goin’ straight to bed after you two decide where you’re gonna fuck.”

“What about right here on the bar?” Tony asked, knowing from what Clint had said earlier that it would upset Bucky.

“I will kick your tiny butt!” Bucky said, pointing his index finger at Tony most rudely.

“How dare you?” he said, jumping up from his bar stool. “You call this beautiful work of art tiny?” He bent forward over the stool, sticking his behind in Bucky’s direction, smoothing his palms over his glutes to pull the denim tighter across his behind. He was pleased when Bucky was momentarily speechless, though he wasn’t sure if it was from awe or insult.

Finally, Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. “Listen, the two of you just work it out, okay? I’m gonna close up.” He walked away to secure the doors and turn the stools upside-down on the bar tables.

“So,” Clint said, leaning close. “What’s your pleasure? Hard and fast or soft and slow?” He smiled invitingly.

“All of the above,” Tony said, “and then some, if I have to choose.”

“You’re a man after my own heart,” Clint said. “Unfortunately, I think we better get out of here before cranky-drawers throws a fit.”

Tony watched Bucky at the doors, thoughtful. “Seems a shame…”

“Everything about that guy is a shame,” Clint said easily. “Shame he knocked up the first sex worker he slept with. Shame he didn’t fight harder to keep Kate when she had one of her bad spells. Shame he works so hard just to support aforementioned sex worker and their kid.”

“I thought he just paid child support,” Tony said.

Clint shook his head. “This boy scout? Gives her money whenever she asks for it. He thinks it’s like his punishment for not wearing a condom the one time it mattered.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“You two finished?” Bucky asked, coming back to look over them suggestively.

“Not quite,” Tony said, making a decision and standing up. “You dropped this, by the way.” He handed Bucky back the roll of bills. Watched Bucky stare at it, perplexed.

“It’s your mon--”

“Only if I win,” Tony said. “Come on.” He grabbed Bucky’s free hand and towed him back in the direction of the restrooms.

“Oh come on,” Bucky protested. “You weren’t serious about that?”

“Oh, but I was,” Tony told him, looking back. “Dead serious.”

“Now hold on, I’m not--” He didn’t seem terribly willing, but he also wasn’t protesting very strongly either. By Tony’s estimation, Bucky could have easily picked him up over his head and launched him out the nearest window. But he didn’t. All he did was drag his feet a little. And Tony understood that. Trade always had to protest at least a little to prove their heterosexuality in the face of gay acts.

“Clint…” Bucky glanced back, but Clint just waved.

“Have a good time now, honey.”   

  


*

_  
_

Before Bucky knew it, they were in the single occupancy bathroom, and the door closed behind them. “Look, the truth is, I’m not into guys,” Bucky told him, but he didn’t move away as Tony dropped to his knees and unfastened his jeans. 

_  
_

*

_  
_

“That’s nice,” Tony told him, and then really felt it when Bucky’s fly opened to bare skin and a large, swelling dick. “Hnnn!” Tony’s own cock was rock-hard at the beautiful sight. If Bucky was this big at quarter-mast, what was he going to look like full-throttle? “Really nice,” Tony added, peeling his jeans back to slide fingers between his thighs and cup his balls. 

“Oh, that’s--!” It was cute he was still trying to protest. His dick wasn’t, though, thankfully. “Listen. I don’t--” He was starting to squirm. Pinker and pinker the taut skin flushed, until the purple tip of his rigid cock was slowly emerging from his foreskin.

“My god.” Tony had to kiss it, nibbling as his lips traced the vein all the way down to the base.

“That’s not--” Bucky was still squirming, white-knuckling the edge of the sink behind him, seemingly forgetting how legs worked. When Tony slid his tongue across the dimple, gently peeling his foreskin back, Bucky whimpered. He licked and teased the glistening head until Bucky was clenching his buttocks, abs rigid to prevent any sounds of pleasure from escaping as a man sucked his dick. Then Tony let him have it, swallowing him whole, like the boa constrictor his reputation said he was.

“Oh god!” For a minute, he thought Bucky was going to fall. Tony steadied him with both hands on his hips, bobbing, swallowing, purring a slow vibe of pleasure down that length. “Oh my god...oh, fuck!” Suddenly one of Bucky’s hands was cupping the back of his neck, and his hips began to rock, gently fucking Tony’s throat.

“Nnnn…”

“Oh my god! Oh, Jesus!” Bucky was holding himself upright with one hand on the sink, the other one sliding fingers into Tony’s hair at the nape of his neck, clawing, pulling. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Bucky’s voice was climbing the octave. He was close, his whole body trembling. It was a nice boost to Tony’s ego. “No!” Bucky’s hand fisted in Tony’s hair. “Don’t--I’m gonna come!”

Tony appreciated the warning, but he didn’t need it. He eased back a little, getting the first spurt across his tongue. Then he pulled off altogether, watching Bucky from beneath hooded eyelids as he milked him into his mouth and across his face, porn-style. Bucky’s blue eyes met his at one point, startled, foggy with lust. He was speechless. And Tony had won.

He licked Bucky clean as the beautiful stamen of his manhood wilted again, gave Bucky’s glory trail one last kiss before backing off, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. All that was left was for Bucky to admit that he’d won. “So, cupcake? What do you say? Was that the best blowjob you’ve ever had or not?” He watched Bucky glance into the sink at the wad of bills, longingly, regretfully. $500 a week? Who could live on that? “You know what? Hold that thought. I’m changing the terms. You took a chance and let me blow you. Keep the money. But if that was the best you’ve ever had, I want a different prize.”

“Wh-what?” Bucky asked, clearly still struggling to get himself together.

Tony pressed close, then, hyper-aware that Bucky’s pants were still around his knees. “I want a kiss.”

“What, after you just sucked my dick?”

“Oh, now who’s a prude?” Tony asked, vaguely offended. “You kiss women after you fuck their mouths, don’t you?” He watched Bucky stop and consider it.

“Yeah...I do.”

“So.” Tony snuggled close. “Did I win? Or…?”

Bucky bent down quickly, as if needing to do it before he changed his mind. The kiss was hesitant at first, Bucky seemed startled by the feel of his lips on Tony’s. But then he gave Tony his money’s worth, parting his lips and slipping his tongue in, gently teasing Tony’s until it came out to play. He was panting by the end, grinding his neglected erection against Bucky’s thigh, thinking he could get there with just another minute or two of kissing like that.

“Okay,” Bucky said, pulling back. “That’s enough.” 

“Oh, sugar,” Tony sighed, brushing fingertips across Bucky’s bruised lips. “It’s not nearly enough...but it does satisfy the terms of our bet.”

“Well. Okay then.” Bucky moved back until they weren’t touching at all anymore, and Tony’s skin screamed to have that contact back.

“You know…” Tony was two ticks below blueballs, and he could really do without that feeling. “You wanna earn twice that…” he began, as Bucky reached into the sink to retrieve his money clip.

He whirled on Tony. “So is it paying for sex now? You gonna be honest about it?”

“Are you?” Tony asked, raising his chin. He watched Bucky’s nostrils flare.

“Whaddayou want?” His tone was angry, but he hadn’t said no.

“Just help me get my nut, huh?” Tony asked, his voice gentle. It was probably humiliating for the poor lamb. But he needed more of that scent on him. Wanted to feel strong arms wrapped around him while he came.

“How?” Bucky looked wary.

“Don’t worry, sugar lump. I’m not asking for anything down and dirty. Just spoon me while I jerk off.”

“Spoon you?”

Was he playing dumb? Did he not understand that two men could spoon as well as a man and a woman? “Here, sugar, I know you know what I’m talking about. Like this.” And he grabbed one of Bucky’s arms to pull him close, turning around so that he’d gently tucked himself into Bucky’s embrace. Oh, it felt good.

“That’s...all?” Bucky asked, as though he expected there to be a nasty surprise at some point.

“Well, if you wanna put your arms around me, that’d be a bonus,” Tony smirked. But he didn’t wanna scare this one off. He was so skittish.

“Okaay?” What an angel! Now there were beefy, muscular arms wrapped around him, and he was tucked into the cradle of Bucky’s body. He smelled like athlete sweat and fried beef and booze, and Tony was already getting hard again.

“Okay,” Tony breathed. “Just like that.” Facing the sink, he could see both of them in the mirror, and that was nice, because he got to spoon and look at that beautiful angel face at the same time. “Oh god,” he whimpered. “Want you…”

Bucky quickly looked away from the reflection, ashamed. But he didn’t move away or take his arms from around Tony. His pants were unbuttoned in a flash, and Tony grabbed hold of his thick erection, stroking and thrusting like it was a race. There was no telling how long sugarlump was going to go along with this. He rubbed his ass teasingly against Bucky’s pelvis, not even really meaning to, but wanting the extra friction while he jerked off. “Oh god, baby, you’re so beautiful. Your dick tastes so good--delicious. I may not eat--just wanna have the flavor of your come in my mouth for days, sweet hot cream across my tongue. Oh, angel, you’re so beautiful. Tight abs, strong arms, big dick...and your face. Honey, I could sit on your face for hours…” He felt Bucky’s body stiffen behind him. Okay, that was too much.

Tony focused on getting to orgasm, tried to babble less. Finally he was rocking back and forth between his fist and Bucky’s groin behind him. In order not to speak, he had to let off the pressure in other ways, moaning and whimpering non-stop, getting louder. Just the right friction of his ass against those jeans and he felt Bucky’s soldier start to wake up again. “Oh god!” Tony gasped. “Bucky...want you...yes!” And then he was shooting his load into the sink, and coming down so fast, he thought he might just melt into a puddle on the floor.

Bucky backed away, dead quiet, his eyes hidden behind his hair. “That good?” he asked, voice sounding a little gruff, but soft.

“Yeah,” Tony panted. “Thanks. Much better.”

“K. We’re done here.” He grabbed the handle of the door and swept out into the hall, only to trip over Clint crouched at the keyhole. “What the hell, Barton?!” But Bucky was too mortified to stop and argue. He caught himself mid-trip and kept going, fleeing into the bar proper. “That better not fucking go up on youtube!”

  


*

_  
_

“Thanks for the great idea!” Clint grinned, but it was just to get Bucky’s goat. He hadn’t been filming it with his phone, although after the fact, he sort of wished he had. That was amazingly hot. Worth a tug or ten in the future. 

Clint hadn’t snuck down the hall until they’d already been in there five minutes. Just how long did a bj take anyway? Apparently a good one took a while. That, or Bucky had had trouble getting it up for another guy. That didn’t surprise Clint too much. He gave other people breaks he never gave himself--other macho guys could be queer as fuck, covered in feathers and sequins for the pride parade, but him? No, he was a man’s man. A man’s man’s man’s man. And man’s men like his father raised didn’t let guys suck their dicks. Stupid.

But either way, it worked out for Clint, who knelt down to look into the world of wonder through the keyhole and get treated to a mighty nice XXX show. Sure, it was his cousin getting blown, but he tried not to think about that. Clint knew Bucky was a looker. He’d seen him naked. But rock-hard, he was like any other porn star: hung and ready.

Clint hadn’t realised when his dick was suddenly in his hand. But he’d jerked himself to freedom about the same time he’d watched the money shot milked out across Tony’s face. Holy shit that guy was spicy. He’d been backing away, tucking up, prepared for them to come out when they’d started kissing, and then...then the show just got that much better. Tony’s dick was thick and cut. Clint mourned the fact he wouldn’t get to feel that fat meat stick inside him now. But that didn’t stop him from jerking off again watching Tony do it. Now his balls were starting to hurt and he needed to grab the mop before the two of them came out of the bathroom.

He’d just finished wiping up when Bucky had come storming out and tripped over him. Whoops. As Bucky left, cursing him all the way, Clint’s lips spread in a lazy grin at Tony, still buttoning up against the sink, washing up--washing down. “Have fun in there?”

Tony met him tit for tat. “Have fun out there?” He smirked, sauntering over to where Clint was crouching, and starting to come down to his level, sliding one arm over his shoulder.

“Ohhhhh, no,” Clint said, sliding away and standing up. “That’s all you get, slugger. Enjoy the ride, because it’s the only one you’re going to get tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Tony looked hurt.

“You’re cute,” Clint told him. “And hot as the top of the Chrysler building in July. But this wasn’t a ‘and’ equation. It was ‘or’. You made your choice.” And sometimes Clint wished he wasn’t such a chivalrous sonofoabitch and could take Bucky’s seconds. Bucky had way better odds to go home with someone than Clint did. It was nothing to get insulted over--he was a 9, dammit, but Bucky was a 12. You just couldn’t compete with a scale-breaker like that.

“Come on,” Tony said, standing up, disbelieving. “You’re gonna pass up all of...this?” He gestured at his body, up and down, “just because I played a little suck and tug with your not-blood-related cousin?”

Clint shrugged. Them was the breaks. “Bros before hos,” he said.  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“Excuse me!” Tony said, straightening up, indignant. “Rude. I’m not the one who walked away with money just now.” Speaking of which…he walked past Clint--he was going to get more than the cold shoulder for that comment--and found Bucky behind the bar again, packing up his personal belongings to go home--or upstairs, as the case may be. 

“What’s your paypal email?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

“I don’t want your fucking money,” Bucky said, more upset by what had just happened than Tony had first thought.

“Hold it one goddamn minute.” Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Good, Tony had been trying to calculate the right amount of anger to use in his voice. “For your information, this is a retainer for the personal chef job offer I made you today. Think about it.”

“I thought about it.” Bucky’s gaze returned to the back of the bar. “Not interested.”

“Look, I get it. Watching your boss come down the nearest sink drain isn’t the most auspicious start to a new job. But this isn’t a sexual harassment thing. I promise.” Bucky still wasn’t looking at him. “Here’s my card. I really hope you reconsider. Even if you only come in on weeknights or mornings before the bar closes, my offer still stands.”

“Whatever,” Bucky said, but the card disappeared off the bartop, and Tony noticed he wasn’t making any effort to hand back his money clip or the 4k in cash that was tucked inside.

Then it was Mr. Moral’s turn. “Clint, you asshole. My number’s in your phone. Call it, we’ll hang out. Platonically.” He went to the door, grabbed the handle before turning back. “Too bad, though. You seemed like a good time.”

  


*

_  
_

“I am a good time,” Clint told him, smoothing his hair back. “But you made your choice. No hard feelings.” He supposed there were a few, at least, because Tony left without another word. 

“You’re a dumbass for not takin’ him up on his offer,” Bucky said, staring hard at something clutched in the palm of his hand.

“I love you, too, shithead,” Clint said, turning back. It was Tony’s business card. Bucky held it up to show him.  


_ Anthony E. Stark   _

_ Genius, Playboy, Billionaire, Philanthropist  _

_ Stark Industries  _

_ 200 Park Avenue _

_ New York, NY 10010 _

followed by a phone number and email. “Holy shit. That was Tony Stark?”

Bucky nodded, looking grim. “And you just passed up a chance for sex at the top of the Eiffel Tower tonight because he hit on me a little.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Clint told him. “We have strict rules for a reason.”

“Come on.” Bucky shook his head, poured himself a whiskey. Clint slid onto one of the stools. “Look, if it had happened the other way around, and say with a girl, what would you have done? You would’ve just gone for it, even though I totally just boned her in the bathroom?”  

“No, I would’ve held back because you might still be interested,” Bucky said.

“Exactly.”

“Fuck you, Clint, you know I don’t do guys.”

“But you got hard when he was rubbing that sweet ass against your crotch just now,” Clint pointed out. “Admit it.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Look, Buck. I’m just saying. Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater just because you had your first gay sex experience and you’re feeling weird about it.”

“That wasn’t sex,” Bucky insisted.

“By straight standards? Maybe not. But did you come?”

Bucky looked at him warily. “Yeah.”

“And did he come?”

Bucky glanced away, ashamed. “Yeah.”

“Well guess what, babycakes? In the world of gay sex, you just had it.”

“Fuck.” Bucky knocked back his whiskey.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is, I don’t do guys!” Bucky was shouting and gesticulating. He was pretty worked up.

“Okay, hold on, hold on. Timeout.” Clint made the T motion like a ref. “Are you sayin’ there’s somethin’ wrong with two guys doin it?” He was going to catch him. Just lay the trap…

“N--” Bucky leaned on the bar. “Of course not.” 

“So it’s only a lewd act when YOU commit it.”

“That’s--” Bucky was getting frustrated. He poured himself another shot.

“Don’t you think you can drink the gay away, because you can’t.”

“I’m not gay!” Bucky’s scotch went flying all over the bar.

“Shout a little louder,” Clint said. “I don’t think Tumnus heard you in Narnia.” He grabbed a rag to wipe up. “Plus, fuck you. I’m not gay either, and I love a good dick up my ass.”

Bucky pulled a face. “TMI, Clint.”

“No.” Clint turned on him. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Eugh.”

“I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re a secret homophobe if you keep that up.”

Bucky sagged against the bar. “Fine.”

“Now go upstairs and get some shut-eye. You’re overtired.”

“I guess,” Bucky mumbled.

“But put that fuckin’ money in the safe first.” He thumbed through the bills. “Jesus. Only a billionaire carries around this much cash and gives no fucks what happens to it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he even knew how much was there.”   

Clint pointed at him meaningfully. “You’re gonna take that job.”

“No I’m not.” Bucky bent down to get in the floor safe. “I’m not takin’ some rich guy’s money to let him suck my dick.”

“Not sure if you noticed, junior, but you just did.”

“I mean as a regular job!” Bucky huffed, tossing the cash into the safe and slamming it shut.

“You know, I’m gonna do to you like our foster mother used to do to us. Do you know how many children in Africa are starving? Millions of men would kill to get paid to have their dicks sucked, and here you are…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Bucky grabbed his bag and his drink and headed for the stairs.

“I’m serious, Bucky.”  


_  
_

*

_  
_

“I’m serious, too, Clint,” he said, turning back. “Poor Harl already has one parent who’s a sex worker. He don’t need both.” Forget about bring your parents to school day. 

“Okay, but what if Tony is being for real that he wants a personal chef?”

Why was Clint trying so hard? This was a one-time deal, and Bucky was eager to forget about it. “Then he’d better stop tryin’ to fuck me.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“You do that.” He plodded up the stairs and fell into bed. Clint could let himself out. He was a big boy.

Bucky’s body was extra-relaxed from having come. He tried not to think about it. Tony’s lips and plush ass, his big eyes and dark lashes.

Soon, Bucky fell into a deep sleep. He wasn’t sure what he dreamed about, but he woke up early in the morning with stained pants and sheets. “Aww, what the fuck?” It was going to be an interesting weekend.  



	2. Poisoning PR in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a tip from Clint, Iron Man makes a special guest appearance at a certain playground. Too bad Bucky is unimpressed. Tony just happens to show up at the Prospect Park Zoo while Bucky and Harley are visiting. He manages to charm one of them, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no big cats at the Prospect Park Zoo IRL. Sadly.

  
**Title:**   Chapter Two: Poisoning PR in the Park  
**Length:** 27:46  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming  
**Cover Artist:**   [ brideofquiet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet) (Text added by RsCreighton) 

  
[**Mobile Streaming**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2002%20FETBM.mp3)  


[**Download File**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2002%20FETBM.mp3)  
_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA!_

_ Did he say anything about me after I left? I tried to play it cool, but I’m not. I’m really not. I mean, I am, but let’s be honest. He’s hot. _

It was 4am. Was Tony really texting him to ask what Bucky had said about him, like a teenage girl?

_ He’s pretty upset that you paid him for sex _ , Clint texted back.  _ I don’t think he’ll be calling you. _

_ Shit. Help me out? Gotta see him again. _

That was great and all, but Clint was Bucky’s protector. He needed to know what Tony’s motives were. _ For more cheeseburgers? _

_ Yes,  _ the answer came back.  _ And dick. Need more of that dick. _

_ Can’t you get dick just about anywhere? Word on the street is you have more money than god. _

_ That’s me, phenomenal cosmic powers, giant living space.  _ He was funny alright.  _ But I want him. _

_ Why him? _ Clint typed back, trying not to be hurt. Bucky was a 12, he reminded himself. People would always choose him first.  

_ Reasons. _ Okay, so the coy approach.

_ Tell me why I should help you _ , Clint wrote. Not because he was jealous. If he was going to be complicit in Bucky’s next relationship, he needed to be sure it would be a good one. A really good one. He’d had a hard time since Katie broke up with him.  

_ You want him to make better money? _

_ I want him to be happy. Can you do that? _

_ They say money can’t buy happiness.  _ Clint waited for it, because there had to be a punchline. It came ten seconds later.  _ They’re wrong. _

_ You’re funny.  _ Though it certainly wouldn’t hurt Bucky to be with someone who could pay the bills again. Katie had never helped him with the child support, but he deserved nice things.

_ Can’t stop thinking about him. Have mercy. I swear I’m never like this. _

_ So you’re a stalker?  _ He hadn’t seemed like the type, but it was good to be sure.

_ I haven’t been back to the bar, have I? _

_ It’s closed!  _ And it had only been five hours, but Clint didn’t say so.

_ A technicality. _

Clint grinned. _ How do you feel about kids? _

_ We talking goats or small humans? _

_ Small humans.  _ The sense of humor on this guy. It was like they were soulmate bros.

_ They have good taste. My fan club’s full of them. . _

_ He has the kid tomorrow. Hostage exchange happens around 10am at Reinaldo Salgado. Be there if you want to see what happens. _

_ A grown man hanging around a playground. Nothing suspicious there. _

_ Sorry, that’s all the help you get.  _ Clint turned off the phone after that. It was up to Tony now. Sink or swim. And he needed sleep, not to be up at all hours setting Bucky up with a guy he supposedly wasn’t interested in.

 

_ * _

 

That night, Tony had a crazy dream. Maybe it was all that grease he’d consumed before bed--his diet was usually very low fat, low salt. 

In the dream, he lived in a quaint English manor house. Nothing fancy, but nice-ish. He had four...sisters?

“We shall all walk into the village together,” Pepper was telling him with a demure smile. “So of course we shall need you to escort us. Won’t you, dear brother? I’m afraid what will happen if we let the youngest go on alone.”

“We’re going to meet the soldiers!” Sharon shouted, screaming by with a small redhead whom he’d never seen before, but he somehow knew in the dream was his sister. “They’re all so handsome in their regimentals!”

Pepper gave Tony a knowing look.

“Yes, I suppose we must,” Tony drawled. “Or they’ll be throwing their virtues at the first man they see in uniform.” Pepper looked scandalized but gave him a playful shove.  

They walked to town through some lovely--if boring--English countryside. Tony kept looking at his outfit, which was blowing his mind. “Don’t I have anything besides this dreadful mustard colored jacket?” he kept asking Pepper, who made excuses for their parents not being able to afford new modish fashions for all of them because there were just too many of them, all still unmarried.

Then they were in town--why was it so muddy? Hadn’t his subconscious heard of cobblestones?--and Sharon was acting a fool, all but showing her A cups to a bunch of teenage boys in red. Tony shook his head. “A ho’s gotta be a ho.”

Pepper looked at him curiously, and Tony realized he needed to speak more period. “I’m pretending not to know them,” he smiled.

“If only,” Pepper agreed.

Tony turned as someone came huffing and puffing up behind them. “My dears!” It was...Howard. In drag. With a moustache. And he seemed to have put on a few pounds. “Such news!”

“What is it, mama?” Pepper asked. Howard. Tony decided to just go with it. This was fucking insane to begin with.

“Netherfield has been let at last! And by such a distinguished gentleman!” Howard waved his handkerchief at some well-dressed hotties whom Tony had already been giving the side-eye over toward the inn. One had an amazing ass, and the other a very fetching gap-toothed smile. “His name is Bingley. And he has five thousand pounds a year!”

“What does that even mean?” Tony asked.

“Anthony, don’t be rude,” Howard scolded him. “You give me such migraines and I haven’t yet told you both the best part!” Pepper clutched his hand before Tony could go off. “Do you see the distinguished gentleman at his side? Well he’s one Mr. Barnes of Darbyshire, and he has TEN thousand pounds a year.”

“And a ponytail,” Tony felt the need to point out. No man-bun could hide from his discerning eye. “Don’t forget the ponytail.”

“Really, Tony, you are quite impossible.” Howard hit him with a knitted handbag and bustled off to tell Sharon and the redhead whose name he didn’t know but to whom he was somehow related.

“This is a fucked up dream,” Tony confided to Pepper. But she seemed distracted by the man with the sweet smile.

“What do you think, Tony?” she asked. “Do you think they will come to call on us?”

Tony snorted. “I bet they’re too hoity-toity for us. Five thousand pounds? Ten? We’re like gutter trash to them.”

“Oh, now, you always see the worst in people,” Pepper scolded gently, smiling.

But Tony was hardly paying attention anymore. He’d spotted the hunk of his dreams in one of those red uniforms. “I’ll tell you what I see in that guy right there,” Tony told her, subtly indicating the hunk in question. “Me.”

Pepper giggled and swatted him. “Don’t look now, dearest, but he’s heading this way.”

“Hell yes,” Tony murmured, trying to smooth his hideous mustard colored jacket and straighten his cravat.

“Good morning,” the man said, stepping smoothly up to stand beside them. He was addressing both of them, but his eyes were on Tony. Blue and innocent but hungry like a beast below the surface.

Then Tony recognized him. It was Steve.

He woke up screaming, his cheeks wet with tears.  _ Well, that was awesome,  _ he told himself, rolling out of bed.  _ I actually went a whole ten minutes without wanting to kill myself. A new record. _ Well at least now he was up, he could start planning for tomorrow…

 

*

 

Tony didn’t know much about kids, but he did know one thing: there were no bigger fans of Iron Man than kids. So it followed logically: Iron Man had to go to the park and meet Bucky and the kid. How could his kid possibly resist? And after that, how could Bucky?

Tony suited up at the Tower. Why was he nervous? This was gonna be great. Granted, he’d probably be swarmed by kids and stay at home moms before he could blink. Just so long as one of those kids was Bucky’s, he should be able to make this work. On the flight to Brooklyn, he did some loop de loops through the city. He couldn’t disappoint his fans, after all. Then he flew circles over the park, trying to find the right playground. J.A.R.V.I.S. came in handy spotting Bucky. Tony may or may not have stalked him online to find some photos to load into J’s memory banks.

He decided to land closer to the kid than to Bucky. Neither of them knew Iron Man was Tony, after all. He could pretend to just be there for the kids, right? That wasn’t too creepy. Definitely less creepy than Tony going as himself alone. Grown childless man wandering a kids’ playground? Total stranger danger. He did a sufficiently showy landing, stopping the boot jets in mid-air and doing a triple axel before falling into superhero pose, one fist smashing a crater into the bark near the swings.

“Mommy, Mommy! Iron Man!”

“Whoa, it’s Iron Man!”

“Iron Man!”

Tony stood quickly before he was swarmed by children. Which one of these was Bucky’s? That was the hard bit to figure out. Most of the parents followed close behind their kids, smiling, screaming, asking for autographs. But one didn’t. Probably the one who looked the least dad-like. To be fair, though, his competition was a gay couple with matching baby carriers. Few dads were out this Saturday morning. Tony stared at him anyway. Leather jacket over a wife beater, old ripped jeans. He had the James Dean thing down pretty well. Tony went on autopilot to address his fans, watching Bucky, waiting for him to come over. But he just circled the outside of the group, wary. 

“Hey Mister!” a precocious scamp stood on his left boot and stared up into his visor. “How does the suit fly? Is it jet propulsion? ‘Cause I noticed there’s no exhaust.”

“Hey, you’re a pretty observant little tyke, aren’t you?” Tony was interested in this one. He had a STEM brain, no doubt about it.

“Harley!” That was Bucky’s voice, soft and coarse both at once. “Don’t stand on the Iron Man!”  _ Well that was downright thoughtful _ , Tony thought. Then Bucky came pushing through the crowd to grab the kid and pull him back. “That’s dangerous,” he told him. “Don’t stand too close.”

“I’m not dangerous!” Tony said, feeling personally attacked.

Bucky gave him a look. “Do you kill bad guys?”

“ _ Do _ you?” the kid wanted to know, but his tone of voice was slightly different when he asked it than his dad’s.

“Of course not,” Tony lied firmly. Iron Man was all about protecting, but sometimes bad guys gave you no choice. Just ask the 50 or 60 Chitauri warriors who haunted Tony’s nightmares.

Unfortunately for Tony’s PR, Bucky wasn’t buying it. “But you can, right?” he asked. “Those weapons…” he gestured at Tony’s hands. “They can do a lot of damage.” 

“They help me fly,” Tony said. Not full disclosure, but whatever.

“Yeah, but they also do other stuff.” There was just no fooling this guy.

“Iron Man, you hurt people?” one tyke asked.

“No, kid,” Tony bent down. “Iron Man is here to protect you. Sometimes I hurt bad guys, but mostly I just try to stop ‘em.”

But some of the kids looked doubtful now. Great. A whole age demographic worth of PR ruined by one overprotective dad. “But dad, I have questions!” he heard one kid ask. And turned to find Bucky towing his son away. “Come on, let’s hit the zoo. We can watch the Iron Man on tv where it’s safe.”

“I am safe!” Tony called after them.

“Yeah, uh huh.” Bucky didn’t look back. Well that had totally backfired. Tony did his best to extricate himself from his crowd of admirers as fast as he could (read: flew away) and then ditched the suit. The zoo he’d said? He caught the train to Prospect Park, using J.A.R.V.I.S. to help locate Bucky again. It wasn’t stalking. At this point he had to make up for the bad rap he’d gotten this morning.

“They appear to be walking towards the large felines on the Discovery Trail,” J.A.R.V.I.S. told him.

“Great!” Tony rushed in the back way, hurrying to pose overlooking the tiger enclosure before they got that far.

“Come on, Harl,” Bucky was saying. “Sometimes dad does stuff for your own good that’s hard to understand, but you gotta trust me.”

“You ruined my whole day, dad!” the kid huffed. “I could have gotten schematics for rocket boots or something, but you said it was too dangerous, like I’m a baby!”

Bucky sighed. “Will you just come look at the tigers a minute? Come on. Let’s read about if they can purr or not.”

“They can’t,” Tony said, turning around when they were close enough to speak to in indoor voices. “Their hyoid bones let them roar, but not purr.” Then Tony hit Bucky with the Eyes. “We make a cute chuffing noise when we’re happy, though. It’s better than a purr.”

“Spoiler alert.” The kid looked annoyed, and ignored Tony to read the sign for himself, lips moving silently as he read.  

“We?” Bucky asked, watching Tony, eyes narrowed.

“Who’s this charming young man?” Tony asked. He’d really wanted to greet the kid, bend down to kid eye-level and everything. But the kid was completely ignoring him. Like his dad, he seemed expert at derailing Tony’s plans.

“That’s my boy,” Bucky indicated with a nod of his chin. “What brings you back to Brooklyn? I thought you didn’t like it here.”

Tony smiled. “I like to come over, visit my brothers from another mother now and then.” He nodded at the tigers.

“You’re a tiger.” Bucky deadpanned it.

“Sure, you never heard of Tony the tiger?” he grinned. “We’re grrrrrrreat!”

“Are you hitting on my dad?” Harley wandered over to look up at him. Tony blinked slowly.

“What, can’t a guy just come to the Prospect Park zoo to hang out and talk with interesting father-son duos who walk through?”

Harley gave him an unamused look that screamed  _ child-molester! _ “No.”

“Oh, okay. Good to know. Welp, guess I’d better be going. Rumor has it Iron Man was sighted somewhere close by this morning.” Tony turned to go--or rather pretended to turn to go.

“See, dad?!” Harley accused. “Even this old guy who wants to date you agrees with me!”

Tony was stunned. In a word: speechless.

“Harley Davidson Romanov, you apologize to Mr. Stark right now!” Bucky looked apologetically at Tony.

The kid looked up at Tony’s stunned expression, more confused than apologetic. “Sorry? Hey, do you know Stark Industries?”

“Know it.” Tony slowly started to gather up his dignity and aplomb, paste them back on with crazy glue. “I practically founded it,” he told the kid.

“No way!” Now Harley was excited again. “I want to work there! You should hire me?” A born salesman. He just needed to work on his delivery a little bit.

“I don’t know.” Tony gave him a discerning look, stroking his beard. “You look a little young to me to be joining the workforce.”

“Don’t mind him.” Bucky came over to put his hands on Harley’s shoulders, looking embarrassed. “He likes to skip right to the end of a book, forget the middle.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tony said, smiling down at Bucky’s kid. Something wrong with this height difference. Tony grabbed hold of the rail and bent to sit on the bottom rung so that he was closer to the kid’s eye level. “What do you wanna be when you grow up, sport?”

“I’m gonna be a mechanical engineer,” Harley told him, dead-serious. “You can be a sport if you want, but I’ll pass.”

Tony smiled ironically. “Somehow I feel like I missed out on my athletic prime for going into that field.”

The kid just nodded, still looking dead serious. “Yeah. Because you’re old.”

Tony felt like he’d been stabbed.  _ Et tu, Brute? _

“He don’t mean anything by it,” Bucky butted in before Tony could recover enough to respond. He grabbed the kid’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Come on, Harl, you know grown-ups don’t like to be reminded of their age.”

“You said ladies,” Harley answered.

“It’s just polite. You gotta apply it to everyone, otherwise it’s sexist.”

“Oh.” Harley thought about this, then looked back at Tony. “Sorry if I made you feel old. I guess it’s okay if you wanna date my dad.”

Tony’s eyes flicked to Bucky for his reaction. He had the same look on his face Tony imagined he’d worn a minute ago when the kid had called him old: horrified, speechless. “Well, it takes a big man to admit he’s wrong. And give a guy permission to date his dad.”

Harley shrugged. “I reject gender norms.”

Tony was really starting to like this kid. Damn. Bucky had better say yes.

“Anyway, Tony,” Bucky seemed to have recovered enough to speak again. “It was nice seeing you again…” But he had his hands on Harley’s shoulders and was starting to steer him away. So probably not really nice, but just polite ‘I have to leave now’ nice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Tony jumped up and ran after them. “You can’t go without at least letting me buy the kid a hot dog. Or cotton candy. Or whatever it is kids are eating these days.”

“Pretzel,” Harley put in, helpful.

“Exactly,” Tony agreed. “I mean what are the odds we’d run into each other today? If you don’t wanna grab lunch, at least let me get something for the kid.”

“Yeah, dad.” Harley grabbed Bucky’s hand and looked up at him with anime eyes. “The kid wants a pretzel. Pleeeeeeease?”

“Aw, fuck.” Bucky sighed.

“Sounds like a yes to me.” Tony smirked at the kid.

“Come on!” He grabbed Tony’s jacket sleeve and started towing him toward the pretzel cart. He appreciated the fact Harley hadn’t taken his hand. That would probably have freaked him out. And made him look bad in front of Bucky.

“You want anything, hot stuff?” Tony asked Bucky over his shoulder as he was towed away. But Bucky was engrossed in his cell phone, and didn’t answer. So instead he asked Harley. “Hey, kid, what’s your dad like?”

“Ladies,” Harley answered without missing a beat. “But I hope he goes out with you, because you’re pretty okay I guess.”

 

*

 

_ You son of a bitch. You set me up.  _

Clint opened his eyes long enough to read the text from Bucky, and then let the phone disappear into the couch cushions again. Why were people always waking him up with SMS messages?

_ Don’t act like you’re asleep, motherfucker. I know you’re reading this. _

Clint sighed, texting back,  _ You’re such a drama queen. _

_ Fuck you. I’m not gay. _

_ This again? I’m bored already. Shutting off the phone. _

_ Don’t you dare. _

_ Look, bozo. A rich, funny, adorable guy wants to give you a job and maybe take you out to dinner once in a while. What’s so horrible about that? _

_ You set me up. _

_ So I told him where he might run into you today. The guy was begging me last night. He’s got it bad. Even if you hate his guts, don’t be an asshole. Let him down easy, okay? _

_ He was? _

_ No, I called him up out of nowhere and gave him all your stats. Because I’m trying to turn you gay. There it is. You caught me. _

_ Fuck you. ❤ _

_ Same to you, asshole. Tell the kid I got his favorite ice cream for later. _

_ This is not over._


	3. It's a Trap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come into my parlour," said the Tony to the Bucky.

  
**Title:**   Chapter Three: It's a Trap  
**Length:** 22:39  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming  
**Cover Artist:**   [ brideofquiet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet) (Text added by RsCreighton) 

  
[**Mobile Streaming**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2003%20FETBM.mp3)  


[**Download File**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2003%20FETBM.mp3)  
_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA!_

In retrospect, Bucky really should have suspected something when Tony agreed to meet with him personally about the scholarship. He probably had a whole nonprofit’s worth of employees to deal with that kind of thing. And yet here he was, clearing his entire schedule to meet with Bucky.

When he thought about it, it sounded suspiciously like a date. But his kid deserved opportunities. And if Bucky had to sit through a lunch date with an ethically questionable billionaire to get him those opportunities, there were worse things in the world.

Tony didn’t even bother to pretend it wasn’t a date. Oh, sure, when Bucky got there, the address he’d been given really was Tony’s office. But it was a private office in his home, and there were no assistants to check in with. In fact, Tony opened the door himself, somehow managing to wear a designer suit with a polkadotted silk scarf and look stylish instead of just gay as fuck. It blew Bucky’s mind a little. Lemon yellow with dove gray? How did those two go together?

“Hi.” Tony looked beside himself. Bucky noticed the frames of his dark glasses matched the scarf. And so did his socks.

“Hey.” Bucky’s smile was considerably less enthusiastic than Tony’s. But then, the fly was often nervous when accepting the spider’s invitation to tea.

“Come on in,” Tony told him blithely, leading the way into his office, which was the size of most company office spaces.The whole room was sumptuously decorated in dark woods and burnished antiques. Even the too-bright summer sun filtered in tastefully through custom cherry wood blinds. “I had them bring up sushi--I hope that’s okay. Clint said it was your favorite.”

_Clint needs to keep his fucking mouth shut_ , Bucky thought, his eyes taking in the purple-red hue of the tuna that showed just how expensive it was. “Yeah, I like it pretty well,” Bucky said, carefully pitching his voice to portray noncommittal approval. There was no sense in telling Tony how hungry he was for good sushi. It wasn’t exactly something that fit into his budget.

Tony gestured for Bucky to have a seat and came around the opposite side of the table. He was acting so chivalrous, Bucky half-expected Tony to pull his chair out. Luckily he didn’t. What he did do was take a dainty seat before flicking his napkin open and sliding it into his lap. That had to take practice. Then again, Bucky’s napkins were usually paper towels.

 

*

 

Tony was all nerves, but he had the performance polish not to show it. From the second he’d found Bucky at his front door--he’d come! He’d actually come!--his heart had been fluttering around his chest like a panicked bird in a cage.

Now they were seated together over his lunch table, close but far away. Maybe they’d even talk some business. At this distance, Tony could almost concentrate. Almost. “So,” he began. “The kid. What’s his education look like right now?”

“Well…” Tony watched him eye the sushi like a recovered drug addict with cocaine. “Right now he’s in public school.”

“Public school!?” Tony was shocked. Wasn’t this the reason they’d invented charter schools?

“Yeah, I want him to be around normal kids. Kids from the neighborhood. Not segregated.”

“That’s noble and all,” Tony said, pouring himself some sake. “But you’re robbing the kid of a good education.”

Bucky sighed. There was a look of shame hiding in his eyes. “I can’t afford a good education. He does his schoolwork on the bus--it’s a breeze for him--and then a couple of Nat’s girls work with him on his math and science after school.”

“One of…?” Tony was trying to complete the sentence and it just didn’t compute.

“The sex workers, yeah. You know in their country, they were physicists and biochemical engineers. Funny how none of that shit matters when you cross a border.”

“Really?” Now he had the attention of Tony’s work brain. There were talented scientists not employed by him? Yearning to get back into their fields? “You think she’d let me poach ‘em?”

Bucky looked surprised. Sat back in the vintage Wannamaker. “That, you’d have to talk with her about.”

“Gladly.” He noticed Bucky’s plate was still untouched. “Eat. Let me tell you a little bit about our scholarship program…” And Tony did. Where the idea for the foundation had come from, what their goal was, what sorts of kids it aimed to benefit. He just kept talking until Bucky seemed full. That was four plates of sashimi, five maki rolls and three plates of nigiri later. Man, he could really pack it in. The thought made Tony weak in the knees.

“So, where do I sign?” Bucky asked. “And what’ll it cost me?”

Tony grinned. “Let me just run and get my blood ink pen.” Bucky rolled his eyes. He was a good foil for Tony’s cheesy sense of humor. It was too bad about the whole trade thing. Too bad.

“No, it won’t cost you anything,” Tony said, reaching for his third cup of sake. “You don’t even have to sign an image release form. Just let me send Harley to a good school. Once we see what learning level he’s at, we can hook him right up.”

“But what about what he needs socially?” Bucky was asking. “He has friends at public school. In the neighborhood. I don’t want him to be the weird kid who disappears to some fancy school and then when he comes back no one wants to play with him.”

From what Tony had gotten from Harley himself, he was already quite the shut-in, more interested in “inventing” than playing kick the can or whatever it was Brooklyn kids played in the streets these days. “Are you saying he can’t make friends with other geniuses?” Tony asked.

“Did _you_?” Point to Bucky.

“Some, in boarding school,” Tony confessed. “But that was all shot to hell when I got accepted into MIT at 14. Which was a great idea, and I don’t regret it.” _Much_. “But not exactly good for my social life.” But how would he possibly have created Dum-E without all of that angst and isolation?

He sat forward, putting on his earnest face. “Look, you have concerns, and I get it. Just give us a chance. Give us one semester and see how he does. I promise he’ll make friends he has more in common with than those neighborhood brats. It’s networking for his future. What are those kids across the street ever going to give him but a complex and a black eye?”

Bucky looked surprised. “He told you about that?”

Tony shrugged, taking another sip of sake. “Might have mentioned it.”

He gripped the edge of the table, looking none too pleased. “Just how much have the two of you been texting?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve just been answering the odd question here and there. Nothing to get concerned about, dad.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but it seemed like Tony had passed muster. For now.

“So, do I sign a contract for this?”

“No. There’s an application. I’ll email it to both of you.” In fact...he tapped a few buttons on his watch and there it went. Bucky’s phone pinged. He fished it out of his pocket to squint at the small screen. What was he doing with an ancient thing like that?

“It’s from you,” Bucky said, accusingly.

“I said I’d email it.” While Bucky puzzled over it, Tony couldn’t resist sending another.

“Tony.” Bucky was quiet for a beat. “What the fuck is this?”

“Just a little food for thought.” Bucky pressed his lips together and turned his phone off. He did not--Tony noted--delete the picture he’d just been sent.

“You know, most perverts just send a dick pic.”

“But you’re not interested in my dick,” Tony pointed out. “So I sent you something else.”

“You’re still a perv.” That look. He was considering it. Tony was sure of it.

“But you didn’t tell me how you liked it,” he teased.

“Stop, Tony. This is supposed to be about Harley.”

“There’s no saying you can’t mix business with pleasure.”

“That’s the exact saying.” Bucky didn’t look amused.

“Well I made a new saying. This is what I’m saying.” He leaned back against the table, body language inviting. “You like that picture, there’s more where it came from.”

“I just bet there is.” Bucky stood, preparing to leave.

And Tony couldn’t have that. He stood, too, sauntered closer. “Where you going, soldier?” He gripped Bucky’s waistband. “The party’s just getting started.”

“For you, maybe,” Bucky said. His tone of voice said no, but the fact he hadn’t pulled away said yes, as far as Tony was concerned. Also, he couldn’t seem to meet Tony’s eyes. There was desire lurking there. He could smell it.

“For you, too...if you want,” Tony told him with a coy look.

Bucky sighed, seeming to give up. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” _Compliment me_ , Tony’s eyes begged.

“So...insistent. It’s weird.”

“Maybe I just know how to get what I want,” he purred.

“Maybe you just don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“Are you saying no?” Their bodies were closer now, and Tony could feel the sexual tension pouring off of Bucky.

He licked his lips. Hesitated. For just a moment. “Listen. I haven’t had anal since my ex. And you got a plump little ass for a guy...” He’d done the right thing sending that photo. This sounded very promising. Tony started to get his hopes up. “But if we do this, that’s it. I don’t wanna hear about it again. We do this, we’re done. You got what you wanted. And let it go.”

Let it go? How was Tony supposed to let it go after he finally got that big dick inside him? And who demanded to be a one-night (afternoon?) stand? _Oh, right. Trade_. “I want what you want,” Tony told him, letting his body relax against Bucky’s, the universal sign for ‘fuck me.’

It didn’t quite happen like Tony had imagined it. He was bent over his desk--and that was always fun--they had undressed hurriedly and not completely, but there was way more attention to prep happening than he’d come to expect from a straight guy. And yeah, that was actually nice. Except for the part where Tony liked to get manhandled and entered roughly and painfully every once in a while.

Bucky ate his ass like he was a woman. And Tony supposed that was his frame of reference. But still. He slipped carefully lubed fingers inside him, gently easing him open, relaxing him while he ate his ass. And that was...frustrating. But so worth it once he finally shoved that hard cock inside him. He did that carefully, too, letting Tony adjust to his girth, sliding in one inch at a time. It was maddening. Tony was impatient. He wanted it all. Now.

Finally they were rocking and rolling, Tony hanging onto his desk for dear life, watching memos and knicknacks flying this way and that as Bucky literally fucked them off onto the floor. “Oh yeah,” he moaned. “Do me harder!”

“Shut up,” Bucky told him, eyes closed, no doubt pretending that Tony was a woman. While Bucky pounded Tony’s ass, he decided to take matters in hand. In spite of his gentle foreplay, Tony’s pleasure didn’t seem to be on Bucky’s menu.

Bucky pulled his hair when he came, grabbing a fistful and tugging Tony’s head back. He wailed softly, feeling the sudden rush of warmth as Bucky filled him. “That’s good,” he gasped. “Give it to me.” Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony and rocked against him until he was soft enough to slip out.

“That was amazing,” Tony sighed, not letting him go. Bucky bit him; it was glorious. But then he was pulling away.

“Pull your pants up,” he told Tony, gruffly.  

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Tony flirted. “It’s my office. I can sit here with my pants down all day if I want.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tucking that beautiful body back into his clothes. Tony mourned the loss of that view. Then he paused, looking more closely at Tony. “You didn’t come?”

Tony shrugged. He could come later, when he was thinking about Bucky’s come inside him. Sniffing his desk like a pathetic perv. “You sure I can’t take a picture to remember you by?” He had to try, even though Bucky had already said no.

“For my genius hacker kid to somehow find? No thanks.”

“Please, please?” Oh, was he coming closer? Was he reconsidering?

All of a sudden, Tony found himself being jerked against Bucky, face to face. For some reason, he wouldn’t look down at him though, which Tony did not understand until Bucky’s fingers curled around his neglected shaft and started stroking. “Are you finishing me off?” Tony asked in shock.

“Shut up.”

“Okay.” Oh god, it felt good to press up against him like this, thrusting into his firm grip. Ideally, Tony would have liked to kiss him while this was happening. Maybe even put arms around him. But somehow Bucky had wedged his shoulder between them in a way that prevented that. And all Tony could do was watch and enjoy what little Bucky was giving him.

And finally he got the manhandling he’d wanted. Bucky tugged Tony’s dick and ground against him and squeezed his ass. He polished Tony’s knob until there was no more polish and then went back for more. Finally, half-clinging to his shoulders, Tony came, mewling, completely ruining Bucky’s shirt. Not to mention his own pants--though they’d needed dry-cleaning anyway.

“Th-thanks,” Tony stuttered, sagging back against his desk.

“Don’t say I never gave you nothin,” Bucky said, turning away to wipe up. Tony watched, mournful. He really was preparing to leave. How...abrupt.

“A kiss before you go, sweetheart?”

Bucky turned back and glared at him. “I meant it, Tony. That was it. Save the memory.”

Tony deflated a little more. He’d hoped it had been good enough for Bucky to reconsider. “Oh. Well, then. Thanks for...lunch.”

Bucky nodded, and then he was gone. They hadn’t even gotten to dessert.

 

*

 

“So, how’d it go?” Clint asked. Ignoring him, Bucky trudged upstairs and straight to bed. “That good, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

But one thing Clint couldn’t help noticing as Bucky passed: he stank of sex.

Clint was curious. He texted Tony. _Have fun?_

_Maybe._

_He looks worn out._

_I did my best._

_Doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, though._

_He said it was my only shot, so I should save the memory._ Clint could hear the gloom behind those words.

_What a crock._

_You think so?_ Poor Tony. Why was Bucky doing this to him?

_Depends. Are you any good?_

_Good? I’m fucking amazing._

That had been Clint’s guess. _Then he’ll be back._

_I hope so._

_So, does the kid get his scholarship?_

_He had it after talking with me for five minutes._

Clint grinned. _So this was all a clever ruse to get Bucky alone with you?_

_How dare you accuse me, Sir._

_Yeah, I figured. Normally I’d say just be honest. Ask him out, but…_

_Yeah. Work on him for me?_

_I’ll see what I can do._

But in the end, what Clint could do was very little. Bucky didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to be teased about it, didn’t want to answer questions about it or have it subtly hinted at. He wanted nothing to do with the subject of Tony Stark in any way.

“So how are you gonna get Harl into that program without ever speaking to Tony again?”

“There are people in charge of that. People qualified to test and tutor and work with kids.”

“So you’re not even gonna say thank you.” What a piece of work.

“I think it’s better coming from the kid, don’t you?”  Bucky had an answer for everything. And everything never mentioned Tony by name.

Finally, Clint just asked him flat out. “You’re not taking that job as Stark’s chef?”

“I told you I wasn’t.” Bucky pretended to busy himself with inventory.

“Because he wants you?”

Bucky set his jaw. Time to be stubborn. “Because he won’t leave it alone. Every time I’m around him, it’s ‘you’re so beautiful, fuck me, let me blow you’.”

“How terrible for you,” Clint said drily.   

“Fuck off, Clint, I can’t work with somebody like that.”

“Okay, fine. But you could totally date somebody like that,” he pointed out.

“No I couldn’t.” Now he was rustling around in the overstock cabinets, making the bottles clank in an effort to drown him out.

“Why? Because he’s a dude?”

“Leave it, Clint.”

“That’s a dumb reason not to date somebody,” Clint insisted.

“I said leave it!”

“You’re makin’ a mistake.” _Unbelievable._

“Yeah, well I’m entitled to make my own mistakes.”

Clint shook his head. “You’re a shithead.”

“And you promised to clean the bathrooms this week.” Bucky handed him the toilet brush.

“Did I?”

“You were drunk at the time.”

“Damn.”

And that was that. They didn’t talk about Tony anymore. He became like every other closed chapter of Bucky’s life: something to be repressed and depressed over.

Tony continued to text him, but Clint felt weird about it. Like talking to a bro’s ex. He tried his best to put the whole thing on the back burner. Things like this always came back to haunt you. Sometimes in the most unexpected ways.


	4. Karn Evil 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boring assholes by day, Clint and Bucky fight crime by night. When trying to interrupt the tracksuit mafia's sex trafficking goes horribly wrong, our hero Clint needs help! Good thing Tony's still carrying a torch for Bucky. There are advantages to having Iron Man as your stalker. 
> 
> At the hospital, Clint and Tony bond and Nat makes a deal with Tony. But will Bucky honor it?

  
**Title:**   Chapter Four: Karn Evil 9  
**Length:** 37:50  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming  
**Cover Artist:**   [ brideofquiet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet) (Text added by RsCreighton) 

  
[**Mobile Streaming**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2004%20FETBM.mp3)  


[**Download File**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bMCU%5d%2004%20FETBM.mp3)  
_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA!_

Normally, Clint was a lazy, good-for-nothing sack of shit. He slept all day, woke up occasionally to drink coffee, eat leftover pizza, and take a leak, then went back to sleep.

But there were certain occasions he became a completely different person. Like right now.

Romanov had given them the intel: tracksuit mafia was importing some Croatian women through their sex trafficking channels, and it involved moving them through Bed-Stuy tonight. So that was why Clint was perched on the roof right now, balancing on a thin sheet of ice, freezing his balls off.

“Here they come.” Bucky was at street level. It was handy having hearing aids that doubled as bluetooth receivers. His partner barely had to whisper for Clint to hear him from 30 yards away. He strung his bow, watching the door, the basement exit, the van.

Two goons exited the building first, secured the pathway, and then four more came out, surrounding a group of seven frightened-looking women.

“You got the four?” Bucky asked in his ear.

“Piece of cake,” Clint told him. But there was a narrow window. As soon as one of the two in the lead figured out their driver had secretly been replaced with Folger’s Crystals, it was on.

Fortunately, the tracksuit mafia was dumb as ever. Neither of the goons approached the driver, simply opening the sliding door and taking up guard positions as the women were crammed inside. One of the escorts climbed in. Clint could hear him speaking to Bucky in Russian. Luckily Romanov had been tutoring him.

But one was plenty in such close quarters. Clint shot a smoke and light arrow at the warehouse door to distract the rest. The last woman climbed into the van as the tracksuits started to run this way and that, shooting at random, trying to triangulate his position.

The door of the van slid shut, followed by a single gunshot. “We’re outta here,” Bucky said calmly, peeling out like a teen driver with something to prove.

Then it all went to shit. There was the sound of shattering glass and women screaming in his ear. One of the tracksuits popped up with a tommy gun.

_Seriously?_ Clint shot him in the throat. Then he had split arrows for the tires of the only three mafia vehicles in pursuit range.

But something was wrong. The escape van wasn’t moving. It had lurched into the middle of the street and was just idling. “Hey, buddy?” Clint tapped his earpiece. “You okay in there? Bucky, come back?”

But all he could hear were women’s voices, talking at top speed in a foreign language. There was a rattling sound in his ear, and then the van took off again. In the wrong direction.

“Shit.” Clint ran for the other side of the roof, vaulting off and landing on top of his car. “Sorry, girl.” He patted the roof, slipping inside the driver’s window and bringing the engine to life with a roar. Then he was off after the van. And he wasn’t the only one.

 

*

 

Tony wasn’t using the suit to stalk Barnes. No way. That would be a gross misuse of advanced technology--not to mention pathetic. And, if he was going to be pathetic, he could have just hacked all the traffic and security cams in the area to watch Barnes’ every move, no need to abuse his own beautiful Starktech.

So, no. Tony was just out for a late night flight. Just happened to be passing the bar. Happened to glance in the apartment window above the place. To see if Bucky happened to be inside. Having sex with women. Or, you know. Whatever it was that red-blooded heterosexual males did. He wasn’t hurt that Bucky hadn’t so much as called, had refused to speak to Tony at all since that fateful lunch meeting. He had so many things to keep him busy, Tony didn’t have time to care about stuff like that. It totally wasn’t his style to be mooning like a lovesick--

“Sir, a high-speed chase appears to be in progress a few blocks away,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted his denial. “Automatic rifles are being discharged.”

“Thanks, J. Let’s check it out.” Tony pulled up the traffic cam feed--not that he’d been watching it anyway or anything--and flew over to Fulton Street. It was easy to hear the automatic gunfire as they got closer. But Tony hadn’t been expecting to see gunmen hanging out car windows, shooting as they drove. Not here in New York City.

The white van they were pursuing looked like swiss cheese. And...wasn’t that Clint’s car chasing after them? Someone leaned out of Clint’s driver’s window and shot...a bow and arrow? Tony felt like he was watching some weird modernization of Robin Hood.

The humvee in pursuit on the left exploded, flipping upside down and sliding to a fiery halt. Russian mafia thugs started climbing out the windows, so it looked like everyone in there was okay.

Tony sped up to catch the van at the front of this parade. On the way, he dispatched mini-rockets to take out the second van’s tires. “Sucks to be you,” he told it, as it spun to a sudden halt, tipping over on its side. “Any idea what’s in the van, J?”

“I’ve found an audio feed from within the vehicle,” Jarvis said. “Shall I patch it through, Sir?”

“Hit it.” Tony needed to solve this mystery as quickly as possible. But the audio was patchy at best, like a cell phone call with bad reception. He could hear several women shouting. They sounded scared. They sounded...eastern European?

While Tony tried to make out what language it was between the crackling white noise, he turned on advanced reconnaissance mode to take a look inside the van. No explosives or stolen goods. Two guns, two men--probably dead from their prone positions on the floor. And six...seven women all talking at once. They didn’t LOOK like hardened criminals, but Clint was still in pursuit, getting closer. The sad thing was, Tony couldn’t be sure if Clint was a good guy or a bad guy. And what was with the bow and arrow anyway?

 

*

 

Clint was panicking. Bucky not answering meant something had happened to him. What was that shattering glass noise he’d heard? The driver’s side window? He couldn’t see. And right now, it was more important to get those tracksuits off their tail. So he shot an exploding arrow at the humvee. He could see the number of well-armed thugs in that vehicle, and it didn’t bode well.

Suddenly he caught several flares of red light from the corner of his eye. Four bangs and the second van was suddenly skidding out, all its tires destroyed.

So who was helping him? “Katie, is that you?” Had she even kept her old earpiece? “We’ve gotta stop that van, but in a careful way. I think Bucky’s hurt.” Actually, he thought Bucky was a lot worse than hurt, but there was no sense saying it out loud. Superstitious? Him? A carnie? Never.

There was no answer from Kate, so Clint stepped on the gas. Maybe he could do a sort of grappling hook thing and secure the other end to his sweet Cherry. It might damage her, but if Bucky needed help… Clint anchored the near end of the rope by tying it around the passenger seat. This was either going to work, or it was going to destroy his baby. Before he shot the grappling arrow, Clint tried the radio one more time. “Buck, answer me. Are you okay in there?”

 

*

 

That was Clint’s voice... _Bucky_ . If Clint was in pursuit because Bucky was in there, then that meant... One of those men dead on the floor must be… _No._

Tony flew down and punched both fists through the roof of the van, yanking it to a halt and rolling the top back like a sardine can in the process. The women were screaming, scurrying, but Tony couldn’t waste precious attention on them. Bucky was lying sprawled between the driver’s seat and the seat behind. Lying at a lifeless angle, one leg up on the seat with his shoulders on the floor.

_No._

Tony flew in, grabbed him, tossed the seats out of the way. The women were fleeing the car, and Tony was fine with that. He needed room. Blood was oozing sluggishly from a gaping hole in Bucky’s collar. He grabbed gauze from his first aid compartment, put pressure on the wound, but it was huge. A .45 at close range, if he was any judge--and he was.  “Tell me he’s still alive,” Tony said to J.A.R.V.I.S., pressing his free gauntlet to Bucky’s chest.  

“His pulse is very faint, Sir,” the AI replied. “The probability that he’ll survive until emergency services arrive is less than ten percent.”

“No.” Why did Tony’s voice sound so calm?

“Do you believe my analysis to be inaccurate, Sir?” Funny, even J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded scared. But Tony couldn’t answer him right now. He was too busy slipping the armor off and putting it on Bucky. Shoulder piece first.

“I mean it’s not gonna happen,” Tony told it, his hands and brain working at full speed. “We’re gonna keep him alive until they get here. Failure is not an option. Start life support protocol omega phi.”

“Of course, Sir.” With J.A.R.V.I.S.’ help, Bucky disappeared into the Mark XLVII in less than two minutes. Tony pulled up vitals readings on his smart glasses. “Jesus.” They were just so faint. “How much longer till the ambulance?”

 

*

 

Iron Man. _Iron Man?_ Where had he even come from? When he stopped the van, Clint spun a hard left and managed to park his car backwards along the side of the street. He couldn’t worry about parking tickets right now. It was a miracle he hadn’t done damage with the stop.

Flying out of the car, he watched Iron Man suddenly open his armor to reveal...Tony? Bucky looked half-dead. That got his heart racing. Bucky had to make it. That was way more important than this sudden mind-blowing reveal.

“Ambulance in this neighborhood usually takes at least fifteen minutes,” Clint said, walking up. He wasn’t actually sure who Tony had been talking to, but… “Did you call them already?” He assumed Iron Man had some sort of cell phone or radio in the suit. Which was now on Bucky. Whose blood was all over the floor of the van. _Christ on a cracker._

“Of course I called,” Tony snapped. “We don’t have fifteen minutes. J, nearest ER is where?” Clint watched glowing lines of text and maps scrolling past the lenses of Tony’s dark glasses.

“Brooklyn Hospital Center. It’s just a couple more miles down Fulton.”

“Confirmed, Sir,” Tony’s watch told him in an English accent. Clint was so confused. He still hadn’t processed that Tony was Iron Man.

“You want me to drive?” Clint asked, turning toward his hastily-parked car, its door still open.

“Nope,” Tony told him, straddling Bucky’s...Iron Man’s?...hips like he was down for a good time.

“What’re you--”

“See you there.” Tony put his arms around Bucky’s neck and the two of them were off. Literally. Jet-booting it through the air about ten feet above the ground. Clint only hesitated a second--mostly to try and process the weird--before hopping into the car and following them.

By the time he got to the hospital, Tony was having a shouting match with a couple of residents at the ER intake. “Mr. Stark, we can’t diagnose him until you remove the suit.”

“The suit is the only thing keeping him alive right now!” Tony shouted back. “He’s been shot, okay? He needs blood. He needs oxygen.”

“Has he stopped breathing?” the other resident asked.

“It’s acting as a ventilator right now,” Tony said, looking at the inside of his glasses. “So maybe...probably. I don’t know.” The doctors started barking orders to the rest of the staff.  

Clint moved up to stand beside Tony, letting him know he was there first, so he didn’t startle. “Hey.” He was clearly in a panicked state. Clint refused to panic. There was nothing he could do at this point, anyway. Apathy was always the easier option for him. In this case, it evened out to calm. “What’s the least crucial piece of armor right now?” he prompted Tony. “Maybe give them an arm so they can put in the IV?”

“Right.” Tony was still consulting his smart glasses. It made him look like a cyborg. It also made his eyes hard to see. To the untrained eye, all Tony did was glance down and suddenly the armor was sliding away from Bucky’s arm, revealing pale skin.

Clint was about to grab his hand, but Tony beat him to it. “Listen, Barnes, I know you don’t like me, but that’s no reason to give up right now.”

_Damn._ Clint rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He was taking this way too personally for the guy who’d literally swooped in to save the day. “You can do it, Buck. We’re right here. No one’s leaving anybody.” The nurses bustled in, giving Tony a look as they maneuvered to put the IV in, take his pulse. Clint hadn’t noticed before, but both of Bucky’s arms were visible now. “Maybe the legs next?”

“I can do that.” Tony stood back to let the staff get at Bucky, but he didn’t look happy.

“Sir, you’re going to have to remove the mask so we can get him oxygen.” That was the lady-doctor. She couldn’t have been much older than Katie. Talk about observations that made you feel old and crusty.

But Tony seemed to be going through something. He was hyper-anxious, and back to arguing with the doctors. “Hey.” Clint squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, man. Let them do their jobs.”

“He’s not allowed to die.” Tony turned to Clint with a frantic look. “He has a kid. He’s a good dad. A good person.” He didn’t say it, but it sounded to Clint like he was comparing Bucky to someone who wasn’t a good person. Who maybe deserved to die. His own dad? Himself? That was too deep for Clint. He backed off the topic. Depression was what happened when you thought too hard.

“And he’ll still be a good person when he wakes up tomorrow,” Clint assured Tony. “Now let the nice doctors and nurses help him, or they might shoot you full of something you won’t like just to get you to shut up.”

That made Tony almost crack a grin. “How do they know I won’t like it? Maybe a needle is my drug conveyance of choice.” Well that was way more than Clint ever wanted to know about the guy.

“Come on, you dopehead.” Clint smiled. “Time to give up your prisoner.”

Looking none too happy about it, Tony finally peeled the mask back. Bucky looked like death. The nurses immediately got him on a ventilator. When the chest piece withdrew, they started CPR. Clint watched, stunned, feeling helpless as they wheeled his cousin away. “Was the suit giving him CPR that whole time?” Clint asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking like he was about to cry.

“Come on,” Clint told him, tugging the fabric of Tony’s sleeve. “I’ll buy you some shitty vending machine coffee.”

 

*

 

It was twelve hours before they declared Barnes stable. Twelve hours of hell for Tony. Hell because he wasn’t sure if--in spite of everything he’d been able to do--Bucky was going to make it or not. And physical hell because the press swarmed the waiting room after the first hour, wanting to hear all about how Tony Stark was Iron Man.

This was NOT how he’d planned on making the big announcement.

When Clint had looked like he was prepared to play Ultimate Fighting Champion with all of the reporters, Tony had had to call Happy in to run security. And by then he was all over the news, which meant he got a text from--

_Heard ur at the hospital. U ok?_

As if Steve cared. As if he actually gave a fuck anymore. And then Tony was in a worse place.

“Your ex?” Clint had been able to tell from the look on his face. He nodded.

And somehow, that had made Tony feel even lower. Until Clint had grabbed his phone.

_Hey fuckface. You’re interrupting sex. Lose this number._

He hit send and then handed the phone back to Tony. “You should block that phone number,” Clint told him.

Tony just blinked at him. Read the text. And started laughing. It was like a dam breaking. All of the tension just came pouring out. He couldn’t stop.

Clint laughed, too. Until he saw Tony was getting hysterical. Then he’d grabbed him and taken him outside for some air. Flipped off the reporters and paparazzi. Tony had needed a friend like this in his life. Funny the things you learned about yourself in crisis.

Later that night, TMZ ran a story about Tony Stark and his mysterious new boyfriend. He wanted to laugh, but he was just too worried about Bucky.

 

*

 

At hour five, Nat showed up. She must have come straight from a job, because she was dressed to the nines: a sequined dress that was more strap than fabric, and a knee-length fur coat. He was pretty sure it was real, too.

“Tell me,” she said. “How is _Misha_?” 

“They’re still working on him,” Clint said. “No one’s told us anything.” He glanced at Tony, who wasn’t looking so good either.

Out of nowhere, she walked closer to Clint and started open-handed slapping him: head, face, shoulders. He had to grab her wrists to stop her--and she was strong. Clint ended up having to wrestle her to the floor. The orderlies were getting quite a show given what she was--and wasn’t wearing. “What the hell was that for?” he asked her.

“Stupid. Stupid Robin Hood мудак and your stupid plan--I tell you. More than two people to do this plan. But no. Now you get my James hurt. Maybe kill him. I kick your ass, Clint Barton. Give you evil eye, you shit blood for a month. Take my son’s father away from him.”

“Jesus, Romanov. You kiss your johns with that mouth?” He backed off and let her up. Nat popped her bare breast back into her dress as if nothing had happened.

“Something happens to him and I’m never forgiving you, Clint Barton. Never.”

 

*

 

Tony had had just about enough of this. He assumed this drop dead gorgeous redhead was Harley’s mother, but why was she so possessive of Bucky? He’d thought they weren’t together. He decided to mix things up, take the heat off Barton. So he addressed her in Russian.

_“_ Хирургия. _The bullet shattered his collar and rotator cuff. They’re trying to save his arm.”_

_“Why did_ Clint _not tell me this?”_ she asked.

_“You surprised him? Not sure. We’re both very tired.”_

_“You’re tired. I worked all night. Only to come home to this on my answering machine.”_

_“Where’s_ Harley _?”_

_“You know my_ Harley _?”_

Tony smiled. _“We hung out once or twice.”_

She was quiet for a moment. “Я понима́ю.”

Then she turned on Clint, switching back to English. “Why you not tell me that gay man who likes my James is Tony Stark?” She swatted his head again, calling him all manner of things in Russian.

“Stop it, woman!” Clint yelped. “It makes no difference who he is.”

“Lies!” she insisted. “It makes ALL difference. My Harley can go to MIT, get good job. My James can stop working at bar, get GED, maybe better career. And they are cared for without me working my vagina bone off. Makes ALL difference.” She started swatting and insulting him again.

Tony wasn’t sure how he was supposed to prevent vagina bones from being worked off, but… “Excuse me, um. Hi.” He leaned into the strike zone, raising a hand to deflect her swats. “The truth is, your--James wasn’t interested in me. As an employer or...more. So Clint’s right. It doesn’t matter who I am.” And just saying it out loud was like releasing all the hot air from his ego.

“Фигня.” She switched back to Russian. “ _If I knew you were Tony Stark, I would tell my_ James _, ‘get over yourself.’ It’s just his masculine pride keeping him from dating a man. He already loves anal sex. And is obsessed with his own penis, as you all are. Another man’s is no different.”_

_“Point of order, his penis is unlike any other man’s.”_

She rolled her eyes at him _. “Who do you think has seen more penis, me or you?”_

Tony had to think about it, because he was no sex worker, but he’d been quite the slut back in his heyday. _“How many would you say you see in a day?”_ he asked.

_“Ten. Fifteen.”_

Every day? _Props_ . _“Okay, respect. You win.”_

She nodded, satisfied. “ _So we are agreed. My_ James _will date you_.”

 

*

 

Clint was just watching them, eyes bouncing back and forth like a tennis match. It almost looked like they were negotiating. Then Nat turned to him. “Clint, you are witness. Tony Stark has my blessing to date my James.”

Clint blinked once. Twice. “Isn’t this a weird time to be deciding his love-life? Shouldn’t we make sure he lives first?”

Nat spit on the floor. “Already I tell you, Clint Barton: no such words ever out of your mouth.” She spit again to ward off bad luck. “Your tongue will be tied with a thousand briars!”

Clint covered his mouth just as a precaution. He was pretty sure the stories Romanov told of her gypsy grandmother were made-up, but…

“Of course he’ll make it.” Tony had gone from the verge of a panic attack to Mr. Confident in 2 seconds flat. “I’m flying in Stephen Strange to complete his surgery. This one is to stabilize him, but he’ll have full use of his arm once he recovers. Guaranteed.”

Romanov put her hand on her hip--and what a hip it was; she’d pulled back her fur coat to do it, and now Clint saw more of her dress… She was glaring at him. “This. This is why it matters who loves my James. Stephen Strange is world-renowned surgeon. Miracle worker. Tiny penis and big ego, but good surgeon.”

Clint really didn’t want to ask how she knew that. Sadly, Tony did it for him. “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Big head small dick cannot satisfy woman. Cannot keep her happy. So he hires girl like me to escort him to celebrity function.” She shrugged. “Small dick, I don’t mind. He work, I sleep. Can’t feel thing.”

This elicited a startled bark of laughter from Tony, who turned to Clint. “I like this one. Can I keep her, too?”

Clint raised his hands to show it was none of his business. “That’s between the two of you.”

“Listen, big boy, you take my James,” Nat told him, apparently having little interest in Tony keeping her. “He will make you happy long time. No big head. No small dick.”

“Deal,” Tony said, leaning forward to shake on it.

“Is good deal,” she told him, shaking his hand, diamond bangles jangling on her wrist.

 

*

 

Romanov left shortly after that. But Tony and Clint stayed. Clint had nowhere to be except the bar--which would probably be closed without Bucky there to open it, and was hardly worth going to without him--and Tony...Tony sat in the waiting room chair beside him, answering emails, fidgeting, drinking crappy coffee, and serving as Clint’s pillow while he napped.

Finally, they got the word that Bucky was gonna make it. Clint was so relieved, he allowed himself a run to the hospital restroom for a victory dump--he’d been holding it for hours.

Tony went very quiet. But Clint caught him dabbing at those big brown eyes with a tissue.

 

*

 

“I think it’s safe for us to go home and get some shut-eye now,” Clint told him gently. “You have a company to run, and...the press to address at some point.”

Tony looked annoyed. “The press can wait. I wouldn’t get anything done right now anyway. Besides, I have employees for that kind of thing. Speaking of…”

Pepper came clicking down the hall with that purse to her lips that told Tony she was ‘unhappy’ with him. But they weren’t alone, so she kept it professional. “Mr. Stark, we need to address the media. How would you care to handle it?”

“You do it, Pep,” Tony told her, not having moved a muscle in his chair since Clint had left for the restroom. “Tell ‘em whatever you want. I trust you.”

“Mr. Stark, that’s not appropriate,” she floundered, indignant, in that cute way of hers. “Not to mention that I have no idea the details about your--your--alter-ego.”

“Even better,” Tony said. “Tell them everything you know. They can’t grill you for information you don’t have.”

She sighed, frustrated, but there was that stubborn jut to her chin that showed she’d accepted her fate. “Fine,” she said. “But you owe me an extra week of vacation for this.”

“Anything you want,” Tony told her easily. She was worth every penny. He caught Clint watching her walk away. But not at first, because Tony was doing the same.

“Nice secretary,” he said.

“Yeah,” Tony said, wistful. “Too good for the likes of me, though.”

“How about me?” Clint asked, grinning.

“Hey, knock yourself out,” Tony told him. “But I should warn you, she’s the uncrackable nut.”

Clint popped his knuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.” Tony laughed. They really were too much alike.

So Pepper handled the press and Tony handled his anxiety by spending the next two days in the ICU waiting room with Clint. By the end, he was waiting for his clothes to get up and walk away on their own. He needed a shower. Badly, if even he noticed for once.

Barton was no better. With 48 hours’ worth of stubble, he was halfway to a beard. That was impressive hair growth. But it made him look like a transient drug addict.

Still, none of that mattered, because after two days, the doctor told them they could see Bucky. And that was all Tony really wanted. He let Clint go in first. “Hey, Coz.” Bucky looked like death warmed over, hooked up to numerous tubes, the whites of his eyes yellow and bloodshot, his skin sallow. But it was a far cry from looking just dead, which was how they’d last seen him.

Apparently his voice wasn’t working. Bucky opened his mouth but no sound emerged. So he started to sign, instead, his arms and hands working sluggishly, but determined.

_How are you, asshole?_

“Better than you, dickhead,” Clint replied out loud. Bucky gave him the finger, and they both laughed. Tony started to feel awkward, like someone who’d crashed another family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Bucky seemed to notice him for the first time, and then he felt even more awkward.

_What’s he doing here?_ Bucky signed.

“This guy saved your life.” At least someone was standing up for him for once. “He even blew his secret superhero identity to do it, and no, I’m not joking. You owe him.”

Bucky’s eyes were heavy on Tony. He seemed to be trying to read what Clint meant in the lines of his body. It was turning him on a little. Clearly he needed sleep.

“And don’t ask me for the details, but I think your baby momma might have sold you to him in some weird Russian business deal.”

_Nat was here?_

“Yeah, she high-tailed it over here as soon as she got my message.”

“They were semi-nude wrestling on the waiting room floor,” Tony added. “Best entertainment I’ve had in months.”

Bucky laughed. It came out as a soft clicking sound. _Sounds about right. Does Harley know?_

“Now that is a question for your baby momma. You know how controlling she is.”

Bucky nodded. _Text him visiting hours?_

“You got it, pal.”

“On it,” Stark said, pulling up a keyboard projection with his phone.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. _You know ASL?_

Whoops. Busted. “I...may have taken a class or two.” Tony finished texting Harley, then closed his watch back up. He glanced over at Clint. “Did I just burn through all my goodwill points?”

 

*

 

Clint smiled, amused as hell. What else was Stark hiding in his bag of tricks? “No, he’s just cranky.” _Don’t blow it again,_ he ordered Bucky, mentally. Like he was some kind of mentalist. Stupid.

He walked over to the switchboard of wires attached to Bucky. “We should probably up the morphine.” _Cranky little bastard_.

_Fuck you._

“You know what?” Clint stepped back. What these two stubborn assholes needed was some privacy to work their shit out. Maybe Bucky’s bravado would fade a little if Clint wasn’t around. “I’m gonna give you two lovebirds some space. Want anything from the cafeteria?” he asked Tony. “I’m buying.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Forget it. I’ll have Happy bring us some McDonald’s. He should be free after Pep’s press conference.”

Clint’s mouth was already watering. Fries. He needed them. “Okay, see you at the chairs,” he told Tony, and stepped outside. And stopped to listen at the door. His hearing aids were good enough to do the job.

 

*

 

Tony hovered about five feet from the bed, feeling awkward, like he was invading a space where he wasn’t necessarily welcome.

_Are you really a superhero?_ Now that he knew Tony could understand him, Bucky kept signing.

“Depends who you ask.”

_What were you doing in Brooklyn last night?_

“Patrolling,” Tony lied. “For, you know. Crime.”

_Guess I lucked out._

“Guess you did.”

Bucky gave him a sly look. _So what’s your superhero identity? Captain Booty?_

Tony laughed out loud. “I should be Captain Booty, but I’m not.” He turned, wiggling his ass at Bucky, and was pleased when Bucky grinned.

_Nice ass._

Tony felt much better. He held out his hand and called the mask. When it flew into his fingers, he held it up to his face, not sure if Bucky even knew his alter-ego.

_You’re Iron Man?_

“Maybe. That, or he’d better lock up his suit better next time.” Bucky looked impressed. Thank god. It was just what he’d needed.

_Why didn’t you tell me?_

“Because that would’ve impressed you more than having me over the desk?” And Tony’s ego was a fragile thing. He needed to be wanted for himself, not his tech.

_You probably hate me now._ Bucky looked chagrined.

“Why? Because you turned me down? I’ll really hate you if you only accept me because I’m Iron Man.”

_I’m not accepting anything._

“You should probably clear that with Romanov.”

_She sure likes making business deals._

“That she does.”

Bucky glanced up at Tony. There was a vulnerable look in his eyes. Something that made him even more attractive, somehow. _Have you really been here the whole time?_

“Hey, when I save someone, I need to make sure they’re saved,” Tony joked.

_You crazy asshole._ His smile was sad. Like he thought he didn’t deserve Tony’s devotion.

“Beautiful tease.”

Bucky licked his lips, nervous. _Stay here with me?_

Tony was melting like a tub of butter in Georgia sun. “I gotta admit, the view’s much nicer in here.”

He grinned. _You’re such a flirt._

“Also true.”

_You should go get Clint_ . Bucky pointed. _He’s right outside the door._

Tony walked over to it and quickly yanked it open. Sure enough, Clint tumbled in. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were gonna have oral sex again.”

_Pervert._ Bucky signed.

“Well, I know who to ask if we ever need a voyeur.”


	5. Epilogue: Dance on the Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months later, Tony and Clint are enjoying a day at the park with their family. But after everything, Bucky's still playing it cool with Tony. Clint has had enough.

  
**Title:**   Epilogue: Dance on the Breeze  
**Length:** 25:24  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming  
**Cover Artist:**   [ brideofquiet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet) (Text added by RsCreighton) 

  
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_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA!_

 

There was a great wind today. A perfect day for flying kites. Harley had made his own, and he was eager to fly it. Of course Tony had made him one, too. And Clint insisted on having one with Hawkeye’s colors. He and the kid ran across the lawn, testing each one out. They were going to play kite battle, but then Clint realized the kid had made some sort of propulsion system for his, so fuck that. Instead, they amused themselves chasing other people’s kites around. It was fun to be an asshole. Maybe he was a bad influence on the kid, but so what? Harley was his nephew. He was allowed.

Bucky and Tony were playing the adults, sitting together on a park bench. Their body language was a hysterical oxymoron. Bucky: strictly casual, platonic, bro-mode, pretending they weren’t holding hands. Tony: curled toward him, legs crossed, trying to look casual but clearly looking like he wanted to throw himself at Bucky’s feet.

“So what’s it like having two dads now?” Clint asked Harley, as he worked to untangle the kite strings. Again.

“Kind of cool. Kind of weird,” Harley admitted.

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, mom calls all the time, yelling at dad to take care of Mr. Stark. They fight a little bit.”

“More than usual?” Fighting was a way of life for those two. If Clint didn’t know better, he’d’ve said it came from sexual tension.

“Nah.”

“So weird how? I mean, sure. Tony’s not your dad really, but he’s always around, right?”

“He’s always around. I think it makes dad mad.”

“Really?” This kid and his casual observations.

“He gets pretty grumpy when Mr. Stark tries to put his head in his lap or snuggle when we watch a movie.”

Clint smirked.  _ Methinks the Bucky doth protest too much _ . “Why do you think that is?”

“He doesn’t want Mr. Stark to leave.”

Ouch. And supposedly  _ he _ was the expert marksman here.

 

*

They watched as Clint and Harley ran around the lawn with their kites, shouting and laughing like children. Well, _ one _ of them was.

It was their usual Saturday routine now: they’d all pile in the car to go pick up Clint, grab brunch, and come back to the park to play after. Today it was kites. Which was fine by Tony. Gave him lots of quiet time to sit with Bucky.

“They’re cute,” Tony observed.

Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Which of these two is the ten-year-old?”

That struck home for Tony. The kid was like his low-key clock. Had it already been that long? Almost a year since Bucky had accepted his offer and moved into the tower. And now it wasn’t that big lonely place it had once been. Now there was noise and laughter and all sorts of wonderful smells from Bucky’s cooking.

And, yes, Tony had his personal chef, but he also had his lifeline. Sure, things were still very low-key between them, especially around the kid. But he got sex at least once a week now, and the quality made up for the quantity.

Tony still wasn’t sure exactly where he stood in Bucky’s affections, but they were a firm friends with benefits, and he couldn’t imagine his life without the two of them now. Did Bucky miss sex with women? Probably. He’d been on a few dates in the last year.

Tony couldn’t say anything. Bucky wasn’t his, officially. He’d had to quietly work his way through the jealousy and sheer terror that Bucky would leave when he found the girl of his dreams. Harley had been there for him. Now they had a tradition of throwing special sleepover parties when Bucky was away doing him-stuff. It helped. The kid was amazing. And a master-builder of pillow forts.

In spite of Tony’s anxieties, Bucky always came home. He had yet to find a girl he wanted to see more than once. Which was good, right? Right.

And the ring he was carrying around in his inside pocket, well. That was just a security blanket. He’d probably never use it. Never have the opportunity. But it made him feel better to have it there, just in case.

“Thanks for takin’ us out for his birthday.” That had been just last month, and one of the best vacations of Tony’s life.

“Please. You don’t think I really wanted to go to Japan by myself, do you? When I go to Japan alone, somehow I always end up alone in a love motel testing out the settings on the toilet.”

Bucky made a face. “Gross, Tony.”

“Wait, not on myself. I meant out of curiosity--I mean, I guess I could do it on myself, but I’m not really one for a game of Let’s Guess What’s Going in My Ass Next.” Bucky looked at him. “Okay, not with a strange toilet I’m not.”

“Suuuure, Tony. Uh huh.”

He punched Bucky gently in the arm. “You caught me. I’m just a big old tech pervert. If it’s computerized, I want it in my ass.”

Bucky laughed. Tony loved that sound. “Well I guess I know what to get you for your birthday.”

“Birthday sex?” Tony asked, hopeful.

“A mechanical bull?” Bucky offered.

“Birthday sex on a mechanical bull?” There was that laugh again.

Just then, Clint came running up, panting. “Switch. The kid wore me out.”

 

*

Bucky nodded and pushed off the bench, jogging out to join his son. Clint watched Tony watch him go. “Let me guess. You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave?” 

“Hell yes.” The intense way Tony’s eyes followed Bucky, it was love.

Clint grinned. “You two are cute.”

“Us two what?” Tony rolled his eyes. “We’re not an ‘us two’.”

“Yes you are.”

Tony huffed. “I wish.”

“Hey, you’re into science and shit, right?”

“Mostly shit, but yes.” Tony had a smart answer for everything.

“Wanna do an experiment?” Clint grinned.

Tony was getting his vibe, and he was flirtatious as ever. “Always.” He leaned close with a devious smirk.

Clint grabbed him by the back of the neck then, and pushed their lips together, making out in more of a stage way at first. But Tony had lips that kept on giving, parting to reveal the most wicked tongue. And soon Clint had forgotten all about their little experiment. It wasn’t fair, really. Bucky had this whenever he wanted it. And he took it for granted. That kid needed therapy.

“What the FUCK?” Oh good. They’d gotten his attention. Tony stopped kissing first. Of course he did.

“Something wrong, sugar?” He was keeping it sly. Like the cat that just fucked the canary.

“Whaddayou mean is something wrong?” Bucky was mad all right. “You’re sitting here making out with my cousin while I’m playing with my kid. That’s fucked up. What if Harley had looked over here?”

“Are you saying we’re a bad influence?” Clint grinned, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“You know--fuck you, Clint. You’ve wanted to be with Tony ever since that first night. I told you to take him up on his offer then, but you wait until now? Now, when we’ve been living together for months? When Harley’s gotten attached?”

“Harley can still be attached to Tony. If him and me are together, he’s not going anywhere.”

“You’re right. Whatever.” Bucky shut down suddenly and stalked off.

Clint looked meaningly at Tony, who took off after him.

“Hey. Hey, pal. Wait up.” Clint turned up his hearing aids.

“Just go back to Clint, Tony.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I’d say you probably shouldn’t kiss people like that if you don’t wanna be with them.”

“What should I do if I want to be with them?” Tony asked, curious, like he was seeking advice.

“How the fuck should I know? It’s your life, Tony.” He was still stalking away, getting close to the edge of Clint’s hearing range.

“It’s not just mine.” Tony caught Bucky’s hand, forcing him to slow down.

“What do you mean?” Bucky was still more angry than curious. Clint watched, eager to see what he would do.

“Honey, I know you don’t want--we’ve never really put into words what this is. Never really made a commitment apart from employer-employee. But come on. Harley’s as likely to crawl into my bed as yours when he can’t sleep at night. I think I’d die without the kid around all the time.”

“What are you saying? You wanna fill out some kind of custody papers or something? In case something happens to me? I’m not sure Nat would go for--”

“I don’t care what that Night Fury wants. I’m not proposing to her. I’m proposing to you.”

“What?”

Clint bit his lip as Tony got down on one knee. Classic! There was no way Bucky could say no now.

“James Buchanan Barnes…” Tony took out the ring,and when he opened the jewel box, the light was blinding off the size of the diamonds in that band. Clint couldn’t even guess how many karats. “I love you more than  **π** . Will you marry me?”

But Bucky just stood there, looking stunned. He had clearly not expected this. “Tony, we’re not--”

“I know, I know.” Tony put a hand up to interject. “We never even dated, we’re not boyfriends, we’re just these two guys who live together and are raising this little genius, but hear me out. This automatically takes care of both of you if something happens. And I honestly couldn’t live without you if you met someone else and moved out at this point.”

Bucky just stared at him, looking tragic and mooselike. Clint could tell from that look in his eyes, Tony had gotten through. “What if I want to date women still?”

“That’s fine. I never had a problem with that...as long as you come home where you belong afterwards.”

 

*

Where he belonged. Maybe that had been Bucky’s problem all this time. Going out with someone soft and feminine was nice, but at the end of the night, he always missed his own bed. Tony whining from the next room that he couldn’t sleep. Harley staying up past his bedtime, reading tech manuals by flashlight. That was home. Not a strange room with glossy lips and big tits and a wet hole to thrust into.

What did that mean? That he loved Tony? Hardly. Tony was impossible. An overgrown child that seemed to delight in annoying him. Who needed Bucky to put his arm around him when they watched movies, to remind him to eat when he was working, to fuck him to sleep those nights when he just couldn’t turn his brain off. And Bucky did it, but why? Why did he do it?

Because Tony was good for Harley? He was. Harley had progressed by leaps and bounds since Tony had gotten him into the program, personally tutored him. He adored Tony. But did Bucky?

Bucky tried to imagine his life without the nasal voice following him around everywhere, always begging, pleading for attention. Without Tony’s sense of humor, inappropriate with impeccable timing for making things worse.

But there were other things Tony did. Like the time Kate had come to visit. He’d been charming and territorial by turns, subtly throwing shade whenever he felt she was putting Bucky down. Or like how Tony had hired all of Nat’s girls who’d started their lives as STEM professionals in the old country, almost as soon as he’d found out what their actual trades were. The ones who hadn’t fit into his engineering or R&D departments, he’d put into his school as teachers.

Tony was a strange guy. He SEEMED like a total asshole. But then you found out the things he did without anyone knowing. Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Or maybe he was...

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to marry someone you work for and admire,” he told him. Poor Tony, down on one knee this whole time.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Tony said. “You’re fired. Please, peaches. Make me tha happiest man alive and say yes.”

It seemed wrong. Did he love Tony? In that way?

“Or I could just go back to making out with Clint?” Tony offered.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Why did just the thought make Bucky so angry?

“Is that a yes?” Tony asked, hopeful.

“Fucking--” Bucky sighed, feeling defeat more than anything. “I hate you. Let’s get married.”

Tony had gone all wibbly-eyed. “You mean it?”

“Just promise you won’t cheat on me with my cousin.” Tony jumped up, pressed himself against Bucky. “Baby, I won’t cheat on you at all. You can have the open half of the marriage, you’re more than enough for me.”

Was that fair? It didn’t sound right somehow. “Kiss me, gorgeous.” And Bucky did. But quickly. Then he glanced around to see who might be watching.

 

*

Clint was still on the bench, taking in the show. He’d heard everything. And he didn’t like the way Bucky had accepted. It was lukewarm. He was still fooling himself; it was obvious to Clint after the way he’d just turned around to see if anyone was watching. So he decided to step in. 

He walked over, inserting himself between them. It wasn’t hard. Bucky was doing the whole ‘too cool to be your boyfriend’ thing he often did with Tony in public. “So, what’s the scoop?”

“I--Tony asked me to marry him.” 

“Well you sound really excited,” Clint observed, sarcastically.

“I want him in my life,” Bucky said, shrugging and looking away. 

“That’s no reason to get married.” 

“Maybe...I don’t want anyone else to have him.” Was that almost a confession?

“Sounds pretty one-sided.” He watched Bucky looking at Tony, guiltily. 

“Well  _ he _ wants it,” Bucky said.

“Oh, so you’re humoring him.” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

“I...kind of like Tony.” 

“Kind of like?” Was this guy serious? “What is he, peanut butter?” 

“I think he’s beautiful.” That was better. “He’s kind and he’s supportive...and really annoying.” 

Tony was just watching Bucky with a desperate hope in his big brown eyes. “And I think if he up and left us for someone else, I’d feel... wrecked.” 

“Because?”  _ Say it, asshole. _

“Because I...I guess I kind of love him.”

“Whoa!” Clint pretended to be surprised. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Bucky turned on him, then. “This feels weird, Clint.”

“Course it does. You’re mostly straight. Only sometimes the love of your life turns out to be a man. You really gonna throw it all away because of that?”

“No.” He took Tony’s hand. For like the first time Clint could remember, he was the instigator.

“That’s my boy.” He patted Bucky on his bionic shoulder.

Bucky turned to Tony. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“It’s hard for you, cupcake.” Tony reached up to brush fingers across his cheek. “I’m your first. And your last, if I have anything to say about it.” His lips quirked in a sentimental smirk.

Bucky pulled him close. “Fuck, this is terrifying.”

“Leaving things unsaid feels better,” Clint told him. He knew that truth first-hand.

“I dunno if it feels better.”

“Commitment is hard.” He had to admit that, at least, Clint thought. But Bucky was quiet. Overcome by feelings.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” He looked like he was going to break down.

“What? No.” It was cute how Tony had to look up to see Bucky’s face. He usually wore heels or platforms, but maybe he’d expected to do some running around with Harley today. His Jordans added only half an inch of height. “No, baby. It’s alright. It’s fine.”

“I been such a jerk to you.” His chin wobbled. “All this time...you musta thought...”

“Shhh.” Tony pressed a finger to his lips. “I thought nothing. Just a big empty head. That’s me.”

Clint snorted a laugh. 

“You big dummy,” Bucky told him, tearful. He held Tony tight, burying his nose in his hair.

“Don’t look now, babe, but you’re turning me on.”

Bucky laughed, but it was one of those ‘I’m about to cry’ laughs. “What else is new?”

“I know right? Hey. Hey hey hey.” He poked Bucky gently in the side.

“What what what?”

Clint smiled. This was one of their routines. Just one of a mounting pile of evidence proving they were a couple.

 

*

 

“Can we fuck?” Tony pleaded. “Like all the time? This once a week thing. I’ve been such a good camel, but it hurts.” 

“Oh god, Tony--” Bucky felt gutted. Why hadn’t he realized what his denial was doing to Tony?

“No, don’t apologize. Just fuck me?” The way he looked up at Bucky, those big brown eyes...kind of conflicted with the blood sausage poking Bucky in the leg. And yet, he found himself wanting both.

“I think I can do that,” he promised.

“Oh hallelujah.” Tony sagged against him with relief. Damn. He’d really been hard-up.

“Hey, what’re you guys talking about?” Harley had finally lost interest in his kite enough to wander over.

“I’m your new dad, kid.” Bucky grabbed Tony in a headlock and noogied him. What a way to introduce the concept! “Hey, watch the hair!”

“But I already have a dad.” Harley looked at Bucky, quizzically.

“Tony’s saying he wants to be your step-mom--dad--person. He wants to be your parent. ‘Cause we’re getting married.”

“NO WAY!” Only children could express excitement this fully. He was beaming to the tips of his hair. Bucky smiled, watching Harley run all around the park, whooping and hollering, making his kite fly and catching it again.

“Guess he approves,” Bucky said.

Tony held him close. “Bucky Barnes, can I have your children?”

Bucky snorted. “I only got one, dummy.”

“You’re such a good dad.” Tony did that cutesy thing where he stuck his ass out and wiggled it a little. It made Bucky wanna spank it. And other things. “Sure you wanna stop there?”

Bucky suddenly realized what Tony was saying. His eyes got huge. “So what, like. Adopt?”

“Adopt, genetically engineer. It’s all the same.” The casual way he could mention...

“Tony.”

“Well they’ve gotta have your good looks and my brains or else what’s the point?”

“Double trouble.” Clint nodded his approval.

“I wouldn’t mind having more kids,” Bucky said with a slow smile.

“God, I love you.” Tony pulled him in for a thorough kissing. “And when they’re old enough, they can have their own Iron Man suits.”

“Now wait just a minute, Tony.” His kids were not going to be junior crime fighters.

“Well we’ve gotta protect them.” Tony had the oddest logic.

“By giving them rockets and armor?”  _ Hell no. _

“Of course. How else?”

 

*

 

Clint watched them stroll away, arguing but not really arguing. It honestly was some disgustingly sappy shit. He needed a beer to cut the sweetness. 

But in spite of that, he was happy. Bucky had finally moved on from Kate. Harley had a second dad. His new crime-fighting bro was now legit. It sounded like Clint was going to be an uncle again. And weddings were _ fantastic _ places to hook up.

 


End file.
